Through the Scope
by Bardothren
Summary: Set in a post-apocalyptic society where the creation of pokemon killed most of mankind, this story tells the tale of a pokemon hunter who stumbles upon a utopia of humans and pokemon. Though his history as a hunter is treated with hostility by some, he eventually becomes a part of this society. However, a dark power threatens the peace, and a war will decide the fate of the world.
1. Chapters 1-2

Through the Scope

Part One of the Sinex Conquest Saga by Bardothren

Chapter 1

Keith's world narrowed down to a criss-cross of black lines, notched with smaller lines for reference points. His brown hair was kept just long enough to sway in the breeze, and his eyes, bleached a pale green from staring so long through refractive lenses, blinked so infrequently that people called him 'snake'. He had a permanent ring around his right eye, caused when a tauros rammed straight into his rifle.

He had on a rough cloth shirt and pants, both dyed a patchwork of greens and browns. They were woven from scavenged mareep wool, making them waterproof and shock resistant. He wore a matching set of gloves, and he had spare cloth wrapped around his feet, which was tied into a knot over his Achilles heel. He also had a rough knapsack behind his back, tied across his waist with twine, and a belt knife, hilt sewn into the pants.

He was lying on his stomach atop a rocky bluff, almost five hundred feet above a wide grassy plain. Despite his best attempts of clearing the area, a small pointy chest wedged itself into his ribcage, making each breath scrape tiny cuts on his chest. Even though he could feel drops of blood soaking into the fabric of his shirt, he didn't move.

Keith was considering getting up when he saw a flash of yellow in the grass. He looked closer, and he could make out brown-tipped ears, meandering through the brush. As he watched, two more ears joined the first pair, followed by more. Brown-tipped jagged tails emerged from the grass, releasing a shower of sparks each time they touched.

His finger brushed the trigger when he saw a pink berry fly into the air. The delectable missile was shot down with an arc of lightning, and the charred berry smoked as it fell into the grass. Another berry, a blue one, was thrown up, followed by a clump of small red berries. A few of the red berries pop, spraying a shower of seeds onto the field that Keith could only see because the grass was so green, the seeds so dark, and the sun so bright that every detail was kept in sharp contrast.

As a fourth berry was thrown up, the wind changed, blowing down towards the fields. At once, every ear pricked up. Keith picked a pair of ears, felt the wind blow through his hair, and nudged his aim a few degrees to the left. Then he fired.

At once, the ears disappeared into the brush, leaving a ghostly trail of swaying grass in the wake of the fleeing pikachu. Keith fired another shot and saw a grass trail come to an abrupt stop. He moved his scope in wide arcs, but he could not find another target. After he reloaded his rifle, he waited twenty minutes, to ensure that no predators would ambush him, before he threw down his rope, climbed the bluff, and checked his kills.

The first was a clean shot in between the eyes. It still had sticky blue juices at the corner of its mouth, and it seemed to have a smile on its face. Keith cut off the ears and put them in the pouch at his waist.

The second was still twitching. The bullet hit it in the thigh, causing a slow yet lethal loss of blood. Keith swiftly grabbed its head and jabbed the knife point into the base of its skull, causing it to jerk in panic before it fell limp. Keith felt a surge of electricity through the gloves that caused his hands to go numb. After he rubbed feeling back into his fingers, he sliced off the ears and dropped them in his pouch. He stopped only to collect his rope and bullet shells before leaving the plains.

He walked through the forest, sniper held in his arms to fire at a moment's notice. Keith didn't shoulder his weapon and relax until the forest thinned out, and the path beneath his feet had fewer weeds and more pebbles.

His village, the village of Konago, was a patchwork quilt of ramshackle wooden huts and dilapidated metal buildings shored up with wooden beams. Windows were either boarded up or had their precious glass hidden behind sturdy shutters, and all the doors in town were thick sturdy planks that slid aside. The streets were a mix of mud, flat stones, and asphalt that had crumbled into black, sticky pebbles. Lampposts stood watch along old street corners, but only a few remained upright and functional. The LED bulbs had been installed years before the old age ended, and, with an unconventional source of electricity, they still functioned decades later.

Fewer than a hundred people lived in the village. As a group, their hair was long and ragged, their clothes either animal pelts woven together or old cloth repurposed into extensively mended garments. Most had brown hair, brown eyes, and darker complexion, as if the abundant sunlight tanned every surface of their bodies. Everyone bathed daily, but there lingered a faint scent of sweat and the barest hint of dirt on each person that couldn't be scrubbed out with coarse cloths, crude lye soap, and river water.

People greeted Keith as he walked past, and he answered them with a wave or a nod, never his eyes off the path. Anytime someone asked how his day was, he held up two fingers.

The hunter's lodge was a low, flat wooden building on the east side of the village, right next to the main road. The lodge was bleached light-brown and cracked in many places.

Keith walked inside, stopping to check the old slate slab hanging from the wall. Set upon the slate with a white, powdery stone was a list of bounties and corresponding figures.

"Good evenin', snake. A few items went up," said a man from behind the counter. His hair, atop his head and sprouting from his chin, had a few streaks of gray, and wrinkles clung to his forehead. His clothes were pokemon furs woven together in a hunter's patchwork quilt, lightened by decades of exposure to the sun.

"Including pikachu ears?" Keith asked, as he shifted his gaze to the wall decorations. Hanek, owner of the hunter's lodge, kept a small collection of his favorite acquisitions. A salamence pelt, stretched out in a hoop with living saplings, hung behind the counter. Teeth necklaces, furry pelts, mounted horns, strands of braided hair, jars of pokemon eyes, and jagged claws decorated other walls and shelves in the lodge.

"Yeah, those too," Hanek replied. "Ten an ear."

"That much?"

"Word came in yesterday. The New Empire'sbuildin' a big dam out east, in Helio. They're buyin' up every conductor they can find."

"Helio?" Keith asked as he dumped the ears out of his knapsack. "Isn't that town a bit small?"

"The dam's pokemon bait," Hanek slid forty dull copper coins across the counter and picked up the ears. "Capital City needs more generators."

"Better them than us. I'll take as many rounds as this will buy."

"That's the fifth time this week. Don't tell me you're planning an expedition!"

"I saw signs of tauros further north. I'll hunt a few tomorrow."

As Keith walked out of the lodge, Hanek shook his said and said, "the mayor's gonna be furious."

Keith returned to his hut, which stood just outside of the town. The hut was a wooden dome formed of curved planks, held up with a ribcage of wooden beams. A stone chimney jutted out the center, with a dome over it to keep out the rain. The door was a single thin plank carved to match the hut's contours, with crude wooden hinges. Inside, a stone hearth squatted in the hut's heart, radiating heat on all sides. Old pokemon skins and feathers hung from the walls, and an enormous charizard pelt covered the floor, providing a tough, rubbery carpet that felt pleasantly warm on bare feet. The hammock was strung up on two wooden poles on the other side of the fireplace.

Keith lay down on the hammock and picked a feather on the wall. For a whole hour, he stared at the feather, making note of every iridescent color and the way individual strands twitched in the slight draft. He also observed all the other walls, noting their presence in his peripheral vision, along with the sounds outside his hut. He heard the mayor stomping on tree branches a full minute before the knock came at his door.

"It's open."

The mayor opened the door and hunched his way inside. He waddled his way around the fireplace, knocking a skin off the wall.

"Are you really leaving tomorrow?" he asked.

"Day after," Keith answered. "Time to move on."

"Please reconsider! I have a hard enough time keeping the Empire here as is!"

"Game's getting scarce" Keith said, staring past the mayor at the feather. It fluttered with each hoarse, wheezing breath the mayor took.

"Then just stay the winter. There's no need for you to go out!"

"I'll bring back something nice."

"We can't risk it!" the mayor said. "You're the only hunter we've got!"

The feather, blown off its hook by the mayor's breath, drifted on thermals onto Keith's lap. He picked the feather up and twirled it in his fingers.

"We have this conversation every time, and every time, I come back."

"That's no reason to go!"

"That's not a reason to stay either."

"If you just taught someone, this wouldn't be a problem!"

"Do you have anything to say that we haven't already discussed?" Keith asked, pointing the feather at the mayor.

"Will you just hear me out?"

"No."

The mayor waved his arms in frustration and waddled out of the hut, knocking over another pelt in his wake. Keith left his hammock to hang the pelts and feather, throw more wood into the hearth, and gnaw on a strip of tauros jerky before falling into his hammock and falling asleep.

Chapter 2

Keith always hated the northern hunting grounds. Unlike the east, with its high cliffs and wide, grassy expanses, the northern plains were small and surrounded by dense forests. It left Keith standing out in the open, vulnerable to anything that charged at him.

A herd of tauros were grazing at the other end of the clearing. Their tails lazily flicked away insects as they munched on the long, verdant grass, and their horns gleamed in the sunlight like ivory spears.

To Keith's left and right were four other villagers, each wielding a thick wooden spear. They milled about impatiently, waiting for Keith to take the first shot. Keith had been waiting for the right moment for almost an hour when one of the tauros raised its head and sniffed the air. Keith's bullet chipped the underside of its left horn and passed through its temple.

Most of the tauros bolted in panic, but four charged towards him. Keith fired off two more shots as they closed in, taking out half of them with heart shots. The third had its head lowered, shielding its body with its thick skull and horns. Keith knew better to aim between the eyes and instead aimed above its head, at the spinal cord. Keith's shot pierced the tauros' neck behind the skull, and it instantly collapsed. It slid to a stop just inches away from the barrel of his rifle.

The fourth slammed into the villagers' spears, impaling itself on the fire-hardened tips. The villagers were thrown back with the force of the impact, but they all stood up without injuries.

"Bring in the wagons!" one of them called. On cue, six white-topped wagons trundled out onto the fields.

"How many?" a wagoner asked.

"Five! The snake got four by himself!"

"Damn. Let's get 'em loaded!"

Each tauros had to be lifted onto the wagons by hand. Even with fourteen people, each Tauros took ten minutes to load. The wagons' axles creaked and groaned, but Keith could tell the axles would hold. He could still remember the faint sound of cracking wood that preceded a broken axle during the last tauros hunt. That wagon, with the dead tauros still loaded on it, had to be dragged back to town.

Once the wagons were loaded, Keith and the other villagers jumped onto the sixth wagon. With a crack of a whip, the domestic tauros, stripped of its horns and firmly fastened to the harness, pulled the wagon forward with a small grunt.

"When will you be back?" a villager asked as the wagon trundled along.

"Sometime," Keith answered.

"I told you, Beckard, there's no point in getting anything out of him. It's like lookin' for pidgey teeth.

"Are you at least gonna take a prentice?" Beckard asked. "Everyone'd feel a lot safer with two hunters."

"There's not enough game for two hunters," Keith answered.

"Nolan took you on," another villager countered.

"Like him, I will take an apprentice when I'm ready to die."

Another ten minutes of silence followed before they returned to the village. Every able-bodied person emerged from the ramshackle huts with cleavers and knives, swarming around the meat wagons. Villagers carried away the hunt by the handful, dumping the heads, bones, entrails, and other inedibles onto the fire pit. Huge hickory logs were dragged on top of the refuse, and a great fire was lit, its flames dancing high above their heads. Once the fire subsided to smoky embers, skewers of meat were hung in the hickory heat that wafted from the ashes like incense.

Two villagers turned the spits while the others cooked the remaining meat in their homes, making stews and steaks in preparation for the feast. Keith finely ground up his meat and stirred in herbs, creating a moist meaty cake that smelled faintly of bay leaves and thyme. He cooked it on a battered metal pan in his fireplace, letting the cooked meat patty sit in its drippings. As he took the steaming meal to the communal hall, others left their houses, each carrying their contribution to the feast on old metal pans and crude wooden plates. Two carried barrels of beer and another handled a box of wooden mugs.

The communal hall was a huge, old metal barn. A single table, a hodge-podge of wooden slats mashed together with crude iron nails, sat at the center of the hall. Wooden benches, the younger cousins of the table, lined the edges of the table. The whole room was lit by a single LED bulb perched atop the ceiling like the North Star, and rows of wooden torches in crude sconces fastened to the walls.

Thirty plates were set on the feasting table, each covered with roughly identical wooden domes. The mayor ordered everyone to close their eyes and shuffled the dishes around while everyone turned away from the feast. It was supposed to be random, but Keith could smell Maria's cooking behind him. She was the mayor's daughter and the village's best cook, and her work often found its way in front of Keith at feasts.

Once the food was redistributed, the mayor gave the word and everyone turned around. Keith saw that he was correct; only Maria could slice beef so thinly, the au jus was a perfect, homogenous liquid, and the loaf of bread vented steam through its sliced crust like a chimney.

The mayor took the first bite, placing a tiny meatball drizzled in white cream sauce into his mouth. The village watched as the mayor meticulously chewed the meatball. He swallowed – the signal to start the feast. Keith slapped the meat between two slices of bread, drowned the sandwich in au jus, and crammed half of it into his mouth. He counted every herb he could taste – twelve – as he chewed and swallowed. He finished in two minutes. Everyone else ate as he watched and listened.

Once everyone was finished, the mayor pushed his plate away and stood up. He cleared his throat and began his speech. He thanked everyone in the village for contributing to the feast and extended additional gratitude to Keith. A prayer for Keith's safety finished the speech, and everyone raised their mugs in a toast. Keith only had a sip while everyone else drained their mugs. When the conversations rose in volume, buoyed by the alcohol, Keith slunk out of the hall, seen by no one.

A leather pack of smoked meat was left outside of his door. He crammed it into a bulky leather backpack with his box of rifle cleaning supplies and survival equipment, a crude sketched map, and twenty-eight hand-sized sacks of ammunition. From the wooden crate beneath his hammock, Keith retrieved a small handgun, its dusty box of .22 caliber bullets, a black collapsible fiberglass crossbow, a wrapped pile of fiberglass and wooden bolts, and a leather-bound tome. The crossbow had a tough polyester glove that fit snugly onto Keith's right hand, and the pistol had a holster that could be buckled to his twine belt.

Armed and packed, Keith settled into his hammock with his clothes and weapons still on, falling into the restless sleep of a hunter. His eyes were closed, but his mind made note of every shift in the wind, every creaking branch, and the sound of footsteps approaching his door. The footsteps stopped short of his home, as he knew they would.

Hours later, well before the first hint of dawn, Keith left the hut and found Maria slumped against a tree, clutching a cloth sack in one hand and a thick woolen blanket in the other. Her long black hair was tangled up in one of the tree's lower branches, and her cheek was pressed against rough bark. Keith scooped her up, carried her inside his hut, and set her in the hammock. The sack slipped out of her hand, landing on the charizard pelt without a sound. Keith took it and left.

When he walked outside, Hanek was waiting for him, leaning against the same tree Maria was sleeping on. He was picking at his teeth with a skarmory feather that glinted in the moonlight.

"Caught ya this time," he said.

"You should get some sleep."

"Why? It's not like I'll have much work to do once the tauros pelts are tanned. And I might never see you again."

"I'll be back."

"But I might not be here. I'm getting old, snake. My pops wasn't much older than me when he went, nor my mom. I find more gray hairs in my beard every mornin'. My bones creak, my hands ache, and I have trouble remembering where I put my knives. Heck, this feather took me ten minutes to find."

"If you think you'll see me again, you will."

"Do you really think that works?" Hanek asked.

"Works for me."

"Say goodbye, just this once. We might not get another chance for a farewell."

"No. Goodbyes are for dying men. You've got a few years yet."

"You won't even say it to ease the fears of a friend?"

"Nolan said it only once," Keith answered, taking the book out of his pack. "That's when he gave me this."

"Then, see you soon, I guess. Don't forget to bring me something nice."

Hanek walked off, slashing at the branches in his path with the feather. Keith strode in the opposite direction, towards a tall, snow-capped mountain just south of the village, leafing through book pages as he walked.


	2. Chapters 3-4

Chapter 3

Keith could feel his breath growing thinner and icier with every step upward he took. The thin, brittle snow crunched beneath his feet, and a few scrawny trees lining the path kept Keith from slipping down the slope.

He made it to the top just before sunrise. Hints of scarlet and amber seeped into the violet sky, and the distant clouds reflected hints of sunlight, creating a set of false suns in the east. As he watched, the sun emerged, covering the tree line with a crown of fire.

Keith didn't like the look of those clouds. They promised storms.

He sat down on the very tip of the mountain, which was flattened by the gales of wind that whipped about at the roof of the sky. The snow, hardened by decades of erosion and frigid temperatures, groaned softly as Keith settled his weight on it.

Keith listened and waited. A few gentle breezes nudged him east, towards the oncoming storm. Keith frowned, but he continued to wait. A minute passed, during which he received a few taps east and north, before a huge gust of wind shoved him westward.

Keith took out his map and looked at his hand-drawn cartography. The map stretched for scaled-down leagues in every direction but west. It ended at the sea to the north, the Empire's main borders to the east, a gargantuan mountain range to the south, and a tiny river a few miles west. He hadn't traveled that way in fifteen years.

Keith put the map away and continued to wait. Another gust of wind, more powerful than the last, blew him off the mountaintop, sending him sliding into the mountain's shadow. He grabbed a sapling, uprooting it as he struggled to stop himself. Another sapling was torn from the icy rock before Keith slowed to a sedate walk down the mountain.

As he strode through the silent forest, the wind kept blowing him west. Keith hadn't felt such a persistent wind during his time as a hunter, and the hair on the back of his neck prickled as he imagined what this could bode.

Once the sun was directly overhead, Keith heard the sound of a small spring. He found the gentle trickle of water flowing from a crack in a rocky basin, creating a small stream that wandered through tree roots. Keith sat on an old, petrified tree trunk. His survival pack included a few collapsible waterskins. He filled all three of them and tied them around his waist, leaving them snug enough that they wouldn't swish around as he walked.

He unwrapped the package Maria brought for him. Inside were a dozen sweetcakes, filled with honey and fresh blueberries.

"These wouldn't last a day," Keith said to himself. "How does she expect me to eat all of these?"

A branch wiggled in his peripheral vision, and the sound of shaking branches reached his ears. His hand crept towards his knife and drew it as a small purple rat blundered out of the leaves. Its fur was sticking out everywhere, and one of its teeth was chipped. It plopped down on the ground a few feet away and stared at him.

Keith readied his knife, but his arm brushed against his bulging pack, reminding him that he didn't have the room for a kill. Instead, he looked at the cakes in his lap and tossed one towards the rattata.

It took a few cautious steps towards the pastry, sniffed it, and took a small bite. It seemed astounded by the taste of honey and gobbled the rest in a few oversized bites, then it took a long drink from the spring before running off.

Keith got up and continued his trek westward. He heard branches rustling above him as he walked, and he slid a crossbow bolt into place on his crossbow. Just as he was about to snap the arms open, a small branch laden with big pink berries fell in front of him. Keith grabbed the branch just before it hit the ground.

He recognized the berries as a variant that appeared along with the pokemon. Neither he nor any other human he knew had tried those foreign berries. He tore off a chunk of berry and placed it onto his lip as he walked. Three minutes later, after his lip showed no signs of swelling, he bit into one of the smaller berries.

Its sweetness surprised him. It tasted like a peach, but it was a little sweeter and had minty undertones. Keith waited another ten minutes before eating the rest, washing out the sweet syrup left on his tongue with some water from a skin. The crossbow bolt went back into his pack.

Throughout the afternoon, the rattatta came down from the trees each time he stopped. He gave it pieces of honey cake, and in return, the ratatta provided a variety of berries. Round blue ones, nutty little green ones, and some berries too fantastical to describe fell from the branches as he walked. He tested each one for poison, but none of the berries made him sick.

Once the sun dipped below the treetops, Keith sought out shelter. An old tree, charred and bare of leaves, sat in the middle of a small clearing. It was the work of a pokemon, judging by the clearing's linear shape and abundance of grass, but the scorch marks were months old. He decided to spend the night on one of the lower branches. He heard the rattatta scurry up the tree behind him and settle on a higher branch.

Keith wondered if the ratatta would keep following him. He reached for his knife and inched up the tree thinking to at least scare it away. Halfway up the tree, a slight smear of sticky sugar on his lip stopped him. He sheathed the knife once more and settled onto a lower branch.

His eyes snapped open halfway through the night. Though he couldn't see it, he could feel an ekans in the tree. It slithered up the other side of the tree, towards the spot where he could hear the ratatta's calm, quiet breathing. Keith threw his knife, and the ekans fell from the tree with a serpentine gurgle.

Only the head was left the next morning, with the knife buried in its right eyeball. The other eye was plucked out, and the spine was snapped at the base of the skull. Keith checked for footprints and found a single pidgeot feather instead, tangled in a lower branch of a nearby tree.

The ratatta hopped down each branch of the tree and landed next to the ekans head. It sniffed the head for a moment before running to the edge of the clearing. It stopped and stared at Keith. When Keith walked over, the ratatta led him to a small hole dug in the ground. The sound of rushing water came from inside. Keith squirmed through the hole and found a small cave with a stream inside. After he ate the last honeycake, sharing one with the ratatta, he drank as much as he could, emptied and refilled the waterskins, and walked with the sun behind his shoulders.

The forest gradually thinned, until the forest ended at a large clearing surrounded by an old wire fence. Though the fence was rusted over, most of it stood tall on a small hill that surrounded the field. Keith picked the section of fence that collapsed and walked over it, tripping when the wire snagged on the cloth around his feet. He tumbled down the hill and landed on something hard and hot.

That something let out a whimper.

When Keith pushed up from what he tumbled upon, he felt the scaly texture of a charizard's foot. He leapt back and whipped the sniper out from its shoulder strap.

His finger stopped on the trigger. The charizard was tangled in the wires, each of them making a jagged cut into its belly. The cuts stank of fetid meat, and pus oozed out the sides. One of the male's horns was snapped, and its left wing was also broken, and a splinter of bone stuck out of the thin membrane.

Keith leapt back and whipped out his sniper, but the charizard was too dazed to move. After a minute, Keith put away his sniper and pulled out his knife. He had the blade an inch from the charizard's throat when the sound of wingbeats made him freeze. Another charizard, this one a female, landed ten feet in front of him. Pale white roots and fluffy orange flowers stuck out of the large clump of herbs in its arms.

Keith had never frozen up before, and it left him with a clarity of perception that unnerved him. His field of vision narrowed to her eyes, eyes which seemed more human than anything he had ever seen in a pokemon before.

His body seemed to move by a will other than his own. Inch by inch, he felt his numb arms lower his sniper. His hand gripped his knife and sliced the wired off the posts, then he gently pried the wires out of the charizard's cuts, causing a few drops of blood to ooze out the wound.

The charizard breathed onto the herbs in her arms, making them wilt with the heat of her breath. She gently scraped some of the pus out of the wounds before applying the limp leafy ends. She flew off, returning five minutes later with a hollowed-out tree log carrying water. The water was heated to boiling before being poured onto the herbs. The wounded charizard let out a hiss at the pain, but it was too weak to do anything more than squirm.

The herbs were replaced every hour and the wounds were cleaned with gentle, ardent regularity. Despite this, the charizard's pallor grew paler as the sky grew darker. By nightfall, the flame on its tail was a weak candlelight that quivered in the faintest breeze. Its breathing grew shallow, and it no longer winced at the boiling water doused onto the herbs.

Keith pulled out his knife. The charizard, seeing the blade glint in the moonlight, sighed and set her tail onto his. Keith lifted the head up, exposing the back of the neck. One quick plunge later, the charizard jerked before its body settled into rigor mortis.

Keith watched the female charizard with a hand on his gun, but her eyes were not on him. Staring at the dead charizard, she dug her claws into her shoulder, leaving four deep gouge marks. She smeared the blood onto the charizard's forehead and flew off.

Sitting on the discarded log, Keith fingered his knife, wondering where to start skinning from. He had the knifepoint pressed under the left wing, then he remembered his pack was still full. He left the corpse where it lay, walking through the field to the safety of a tree for the night. After he heard the ratatta bedding down in a higher branch, he began flipping the knife in his hand and talking to himself.

"They're animals. Some animals are smarter than others, but they're still just animals."

The blade slipped, leaving a long, shallow cut on his thumb. He wrapped it carefully and continued talking.

"Come to think of it, humans are animals too. Sure, we're smarter and more civilized, but we're all made of the same stuff. We're all just a bunch of animals."

Chapter Four

The winds blew Keith westward for six months. The fall blossom's berries withered with the leaves, game retreated to their winter dens, snow coated the forests and hills and ice hardened the rivers. Keith walked on, stopping only to take shelter from frigid nights and howling blizzards. The ratatta followed him, digging up roots and nuts for the dried berries in Keith's pack.

Then spring came. Ice thawed, plants put out fresh shoots, and pokemon crawled out of their dens to stretch their legs and feel the sunlight on their fur and feathers. The game, sleepy and slow from hibernation, filled his provisions sack and his stomach.

His map had expanded quite a ways to the west. Past the river that stopped him fifteen years ago, Keith scrawled in a long line of trees and hills that marked his journey. Small semicircles denoted the ten springs he found, dashed lines traced four rivers, and a big squat triangle stood for the mountain he saw far off to his right.

At the height of spring, Keith had crossed a boundary in the forest, invisible yet tangible in the air, the ground, and the light overhead. He had crossed over from the forests he knew into a world of thick trunks, clean loamy soil, near-darkness at all hours of day, and air so clean that it made him aware that common air had carried the taste of what it touched.

He traveled by night, for the bugs that crawled out of the branches and trunks gave off more light than the sun. Zubat and noctowl swooped through the branches, munching on any bugs too slow to slip their predators.

One night, when the bugs were so numerous that the forest seemed to have the sun perched in its treetops, Keith felt something follow him. It leapt from treetop to treetop without rustling the leaves. He only knew because the smaller branches groaned under its weight. The ratatta seemed to notice his anxiety and sniffed for predators.

The creaking of branches steadily approached him and eventually passed him. He scanned the treetops, trying not to crane his head upward, but he saw nothing.

The groaning crept into the distance for another hundred feet. As he approached the spot where the sounds stopped, he but a hand on his rifle and listened.

A single metallic _snick_ was his only warning. Keith threw himself left, and a crossbow bolt buried itself in a tree trunk behind him. He fired off a shot, pulled the bolt back, and waited. The branches told him his assailant was retreating, but he didn't put his rifle away. He didn't even turn the safety on.

He first inspected the bolt. Though it was a crude stone point on a wooden shaft, the bolt was buried an inch in the tree's thick bark. Keeping his rifle up, he searched the area ahead for signs of blood, but he knew that he missed.

He kept his rifle out at all times over the next few nights. The sound of wing-beats and insect chittering unnerved him, but it wasn't until the third night that he heard the groans of branches, creeping steadily closer. He waited for the sounds to approach before he turned around and fired. The assailant ducked the shot, swung from the branch, and fired before retreating. The bolt sailed far overhead, losing itself in the leafy ceiling.

Five more days passed without a sign of the assailant. Keith slowed his progress so he could sleep lightly, and he kept both his rifle and his crossbow ready. The ratatta scurried in the branches, scouting ahead and around him. It came down a few times a day bearing nutty red berries that seemed to have cold heat on his tongue.

Charred branches blocked the path ahead. Though Keith could easily step over the branches, the thoroughness of their combustion, combined with charizard footprints and charred scratch marks on the trees, declared the area ahead the hunting and mating ground of a fully-grown, fiercely territorial, flying, fire-breathing lizard. In other words, crossing that line is a wish for the most hideously painful death Keith could imagine.

There was a side path off to his left, thick with leafy foliage at the sides that seemed to skirt around the markers. Keith was halfway into the new path when he got a closer look at the claw marks. They seemed too thin and fine, as though they were carved with a knife. He looked closer at the footprints, and they seemed a hair too shallow for even a smaller charizard.

He sliced open one of the branches, and found the wood still green on the inside. He continued down the main path, and the ratatta, though hesitant at stepping past the omens predicting death by fire, followed him in the branches.

Three days passed without a sign of the assailant or the charizard promised by the ersatz boundary markers. He could feel himself starting to relax. It seemed his attacker neither had the skill, nor the cunning, nor the resolve to kill him. He resisted the temptation to sling his rifle over his shoulder, but he did unlatch his crossbow and put the bolt away.

As he walked down the path, he noticed only too late that the dirt he stepped on was a touch ruffled up. A branch snapped beneath his foot, and a coil of rope tightened around his ankle, hoisting him up a tree. As he dangled from the top of the snare, a crossbow bolt flew towards his face. He blocked it with the rifle and fired where it came from. His aggressor hissed in pain and retreated. Keith could still hear it nearby, waiting for him to drop his guard.

Keith weighed his options. Shooting the rope could take every bullet in his clip. He couldn't prime his crossbow and hold his rifle, and dropping the rifle was a death sentence. He could cut the rope with his knife, but then he would have to land flat on his back. He was just about to reach for his knife when the ratatta scampered onto the rope. It gnawed at a section just above his ankle, and within seconds, he was free. He held the rifle close to his body as he tucked in for a roll, then he stood up, ready to fire another round.

The attacker retreated out of earshot.

Over the next two weeks, Keith encountered deadfalls and pit-traps, tripwires and snares, each more elaborately constructed and well-hidden than the last. The ratatta started sniffing ahead the path, alerting him to any traps it found, but even with its help, he nearly fell into a twenty foot pit, saving himself at the last second by dropping his rifle and clinging to the pit's edge. He felt a crossbow bolt bury itself in his pack, and a second scratched his nose as he clambered onto his feet. He turned to fire a bolt of his own, but the attacker was already gone.

After that encounter, the ratatta returned to the path. There were a few brown patches in its fur and it seemed bigger than before. Before his eyes, the ratatta started to glow, and within a few seconds, it turned into a raticate. The sudden transformation startled Keith so much he aimed his rifle at the raticate, but he forced himself to relax as the glow faded. The raticate darted up into the trees. A series of frightened squawks, later, it returned holding a pidgey in its mouth. That night was the first time in two weeks he had a hot meal.

There were no traps the next day, nor the next. Another week passed without incident, and Keith began hunting again to replenish his provisions. The raticate helped, bringing back berries and pidgey for shares of the dried rations.

On the tenth day, he ran into a new kind of trap. There was no wire, no snare, no warning. As he walked around, a crossbow clicked in the trees, and a bolt sailed through the air towards him. He dodged, but the bolt scored a deep gash on his cheek. He aimed at the tree, but all he saw were a crossbow and a rope leading away from it.

Three more crossbows fired at him as he walked, but none injured him. The raticate began disarming the remaining crossbows by gnawing at the bowstrings. The assailant must have realized this, because it came charging out of its hiding place in the trees.

Keith got one quick look. The figure was shrouded in a black cloak and wore a huge, spherical mask of woven reeds, painted blood red with purple circles resembling eyes and a mouth.

He discarded his rifle and drew his knife just in time to block the swipe aimed at his neck. The attacker struck quickly, alternating between jabs aimed at his legs and swipes towards his eyes. Keith slowly backed away further down the path, deflecting and dodging the attacks.

He sensed his opponent tensing up before throwing a dagger into the trees. A rope snapped, and another crossbow fired at him. Keith leapt back and used the opportunity to fire his own crossbow. The figure, surprised by the sudden attack, sidestepped the shot, but the bolt buried itself in the cloak, dangling around as it moved.

The figure leapt forward again, and in one motion, Keith blocked the knife, shoved the figure past him, reloaded his crossbow, and fired. It was already gone, and before he realized what had happened, the attacker leapt out of the tree. Keith dodged the knife, but the figure whirled, throwing orange powder in his face. He closed his mouth a second too late, and some of the powder got into his lungs, making his limbs numb and sluggish. He staggered away and collapsed next to a tree.

His attacker approached him slowly, knife raised in its hand, as the raticate leapt out of the tree onto the figure's back. It sunk its fangs deep into the cloak, drawing a few drops of blood. The figure whirled and sank its knife deep into the raticate's hindquarters. It fell to the ground with a screech.

His mind snapped out of his stupor enough to plunge his knife into his leg. The pain and the ensuing rush of adrenaline revived his limbs and brought him back onto his feet. He lunged towards the figure. It leapt away and retreated through the trees.

His injured leg gave out, and he dropped his knife as he fell to his knees. He crawled over to the raticate. Its eyelids fluttered as blood seeped out of the jagged wound. He fumbled around his pack and dug out a crossbow bolt, pressing the point on the base of the raticate's skull.

He didn't know why he hesitated. He could feel the raticate's breathing and heartbeat as it sat in his lap, feel its agony growing with every second. Though he knew it would be kinder to kill it, he couldn't bring himself to do it.

"Damn it," he said. "I'll find another way."

He heard the wind whisper "there is another way," and a tree to his right opened like a zipper. Keith stood, putting most of his weight on his good leg as he limped through the tree.

The other side seemed to stretch on forever. Between him and a pool of white water was a stretch of short, verdant grass. Everything beyond that was a pale cream color a few shades darker than the pool. The light seemed to rise up from the pool itself and coat everything like mist.

"Drink, and you wounds shall be healed," said the ephemeral voice.

"Who are you?"

"One bound to the waters of this spring."

"What price is there to be paid?" Keith asked.

The voice paused a moment before answering none. Keith walked over to the spring, cupped his hands, and poured the white liquid into the raticate's mouth. Its body quivered, and the white liquid gushed from its wounds, enveloping the body. The liquid squirmed and writhed until it evaporated, leaving a white and blue bird with an enormous orange beak.

Keith clenched his fists. "You said there would be no price to pay."

"There was no price."

"Then explain this!"

"I bestow new bodies unto those that need them."

"And rob them of their identity," Keith countered.

"What of your wounds? Would you not have those healed as well? You won't be able to defeat your opponent bleeding like that."

"I'd rather die."

"Is death better than life?"

"The life you offer is not worth living. I would be a mockery to the life I led so far."

"Then leave. I have what I need anyways."

He could feel himself being pulled through the gateway. When he realized that the former raticate wasn't following him, he struggled to reach it.

"I will be free," the voice said. "You won't deny me that."

He was flung out of the other side. As the tree closed, the voice said "I owe you a debt. I shall be there should you ever need healing."

Keith scrambled for his rifle and pointed it at the gateway, but it was already closed. Holding back his frustration, he picked up his knife and pack, and followed after his attacker.


	3. Chapters 5-6

Chapter 5

He could sense the end of the forest. The air seemed dirty, and sunlight shone in patches through the treetops. Quite abruptly, the trees stopped, and a large grassy plain continued for miles beyond. The landscape was a series of tall green hills with a small river winding in between them.

Down by the river just in front of him, he could see a thin smoke trail from a campsite. He looked through his scope and saw the red mask, perched atop a black-cloaked figure. It tended the fire with a long wooden stick.

Keith set himself down atop the hill and flipped open the legs at the end of the rifle's barrel. He looked through the scope and waited. He studied every shift in the wind and every movement of his target. He also concentrated on the forest behind him, listening for anything that might try to approach him.

After twenty minutes, he noticed a strange pattern in the figure's movements. It seemed to move in a loop, first jabbing the stick into the fire three times, then taking a sip from a waterskin, then two more jabs, followed by four gentler swirling motions, then another two jabs. Then it would walk into the tent, come out again, and repeat the process.

Another twenty minutes passed. The figure kept up its routine even after its stick burned down to a useless nub. He focused his senses behind him, slowing down his own breathing to better hear the forest behind him. His vision was starting to flicker when he finally heard it, a slow, thin breathing, lurking in a tree behind him.

He opened his left eye and studied the terrain below him. The hill was steep, grassy, and wet with morning dew. It was perfect for what he had in mind.

He waited even longer, waited for the perfect moment to pull the trigger. He heard a foot shuffle on a branch, and he fired. The figure vanished into a glossy silver powder that blew onto the fire.

Just as he heard branches shifting above, he rolled over and pulled the bolt back, letting the spent cartridge roll out onto his vest. He could see the figure stiffen up mid-air just before it tried whirling to the side. He pulled the trigger, hitting the figure in the waist, and then he shoved himself down the hill, using the pack on his back as a sled. The figure pointed its crossbow down the hill, but Keith had already readied his third shot, and he put another bullet into the figure's shoulder. It rose one more time, and Keith fired another bullet, punching a hole through the mask. He caught a glimpse of it limping away before the hill hid it from view.

He set up camp for the day where the substitute's tent was. There wasn't anything but embers and cloth, but it was enough for a small fire and some sleep to readjust his circadian rhythm.

He lingered for a few days, allowing his body to recover from sleep deprivation and the shift in his sleeping schedule. On the fourth morning, he doused the fire and left the tent where it sat.

After an hour, Keith saw a trail of smoke off in the distance. He readied his rifle and marched towards it. As he got closer, a second trail joined the first, then a third. Soon, the trails were so plentiful he couldn't count them individually.

He set a few more ammo clips onto his belt as he climbed a nearby hill. When he reached the top, the view made his face numb.

A city was huddled up against a steep hill, surrounded by a wide, slow river. Even from this distance, Keith could tell that the stone walls and wooden roofs of the buildings below him were new. Each stone seemed to catch the morning light in the tiny crystals embedded in the sediment, and each wooden plank glowed a rich cherry brown.

He put his eye to his scope, and his amazement grew tenfold. He saw pokemon of all varieties gathering water, cleaning their homes, sweeping the streets, and selling wares in little shops clustered around a market district.

Between the steep hills that surrounded the city, low stone walls were manned by two guards apiece. Crops were tended on the far side of the river, and four wooden bridges bore the wagons that brought in vegetables and berries Keith had never seen before. Homes of many shapes and sizes lined cobblestone streets, which led straight to the hill in the center. A stone staircase that wound across the hill led to a stone building, almost a temple, which crowned the city.

As Keith looked closer, he saw a few humans mingling with the pokemon. They even seemed to talk with each other, though Keith was reluctant to believe it.

Nonetheless, the humans' presence convinced him that it would be safe to enter the city. He shouldered his rifle and walked towards the nearest guards. There was a blaziken and a tall, bulky green pokemon he had never seen before.

As soon as they saw him, the blaziken ran off and returned with a human.

"Welcome to Palumpur! I am Gideon, a farmer here. Might I ask where you're from?"

"I'm Keith, a hunter from Konago."

"Konago? I've never heard of it."

"It lies far to the east," Keith answered, pointing at the rising sun.

"The east! You traveled through the Old Forest?"

"Yes."

"I'm impressed. Not many make it out of there. So, what brings you here?"

"Hunting."

The man glanced at the guards and said, "um, well, you can't exactly hunt around here."

"I wasn't planning to. I thought I'd stay here for a month."

"Wonderful!" He spoke to the guards with a combination of hisses and grunts that Keith never thought he would hear coming from a human's mouth. They stepped aside, and Gideon beckoned for him to follow.

"We'll have to speak with Elder Ty'mir first," Gideon said. "You'll make your arrangements with him. He can also teach you to speak their language."

"How?"

"He's a psychic. So, through here are all the fields, and over there are the irrigation ditches."

Keith didn't say anything as they walked past rows of tall leafy plants. He let Gideon's speech flow through him with the rest of the city's sounds and sights. He could feel the presence of everything around him. Every footstep added another detail to his nearly dreamlike state of awareness, where he could almost visualize everything around him in a blue haze. This is how he sensed the assassin before he saw her.

The click of a crossbow bolt resounded in his ears, and he shoved both himself and Gideon out of the bolt's path. He threw himself into a cart of hay and waited. A guard, alerted by the shouts, ran over and secured the assassin. Keith only emerged from the hay when he heard the crossbow clatter onto the street.

Keith was surprised to see one extra pokemon present. It was a tall yellow and brown pokemon with a flowing mustache, long pointy yellow ears, and a thin white cane that floated a few inches from its hand.

Keith also got a better look at his assassin. She was a grovyle, bandaged up around her waist and right shoulder. She struggled in the guards grip and angrily hissed at everyone around her. When she saw Keith, her eyes narrowed and her struggling soaked her bandages with blood.

The elderly yellow pokemon walked over to him and said "she claims that you killed her mother. Is this true?"

Keith thought for a moment. There were dozens of pokemon he killed that could have been her mother, but one scene sprang forth in his mind.

"How long ago?" he asked.

The pokemon spoke with the grovyle and answered, "fifteen years ago. She says you should remember."

He did remember. It was right by the river. The sceptile's green skin glowed in the sunlight as it swam in the river. He put a bullet between its eyes as it left the river.

"She also claims you cut off her headleaf and talons as trophies," the pokemon said after a particularly loud outburst from the grovyle.

He did cut the leaf off, slowly, with reverence for its luster and waxy texture. It still hung on the wall of his home. The talons were made into a necklace after he sold them.

"I did."

"Why?"

"I am a hunter," Keith answered. "I supply my village with the goods it needs."

The grovyle, soaked with her own blood, slipped out of the guard's grasp. She lunged for her crossbow and brought it up to fire. Keith ducked out of the way, but she never fired. She was enveloped in a purple aura, and though she struggled to move, her body wouldn't oblige.

"This has to stop." The pokemon placed its hand on her forehead, and the purple aura intensified.

"What are you doing?" Keith asked.

The glow dimmed as the pokemon stopped to answer. "Deadening her emotions. I can't allow this rage to consume her."

"Don't you dare," Keith growled. "Killing her would be kinder than destroying her personality."

"What makes you say this?"

"I've seen it once already. I have no wish to see it happen again."

"Then what would you have me do?"

"Allow me to deal with her, to atone for my mistake."

The pokemon stroked its facial hair for a moment, then released the grovyle.

"Very well, take my hand."

Keith touched the outstretched yellow hand, and the world vanished in a flash of purple light.

Chapter 6

The purple glow seemed to retreat from him, materializing into a large stone building. It was all one room, and the ceiling was supported by thick stone columns evenly spaced in rows throughout the building. One section had a stove, a sink, and gray stone counters. A stone pitcher sat next to the sink.

One corner of the room had thick, squat stone chairs padded with thick brown pillows, and another spot had only a stone pedestal that overlooked a view of the city. The pokemon directed him to the chairs, and they took seats across from each other.

"You're Elder Ty'mir."

"And you're Keith. Now that we've introduced ourselves, I need to know what brought you here."

"Couldn't you just read my mind?" Keith asked.

"It's considered courteous not to."

"A hunting expedition."

"Do you intend to hunt the citizens of this city?"

"As a hunter, I wouldn't profit by it. You're more valuable to me as customers than merchandise."

"That's a rather cold way of putting it," Ty'mir stated.

"It's the only way I can justify not killing humans that has any pragmatic value."

"And what of ideology?"

"What of it? Ideology won't put food in my gut."

"Then by your logic, it would be acceptable to correct Verra's mind to make her of more value to me."

"It works both ways," Keith countered. "Using such logic allows someone else to make the same judgment, and you would be manipulated into suiting their demands. So, pragmatically speaking, it would be best to only do to others that you would want done to you."

"You have quite the grasp of philosophy."

"I had a good teacher."

"You mentioned that you want us as customers," Ty'mir said. "So, you intend to stay and hunt here."

"The forest is full of pokemon."

"How will you know which ones to shoot? You've made that mistake before."

"Customers live in houses and wear clothes," Keith said. "Prey lives out in the open."

"You know it isn't that simple."

"But it is. Civilization isn't just the clothes you wear or the houses you live in. It's an attitude, a mindset visible in eyes and posture. Anyone with keen enough senses can tell the difference between wild and civilized."

"Are there more like you where you're from?" Ty'mir asked.

"You mean the thinking type? Don't count on it. Most people I know wouldn't hesitate to kill you even if you did speak."

"What made you change your mind?"

"I never had to."

A stone pitcher and two carved cups floated across the room. Keith could see a syrupy dark liquid sloshing around in the pitcher.

"Berry juice? I find that I have a craving for it."

Keith licked his dry lips and said please. The juice flowed up out of the pitcher and into both cups, then a cup floated into Keith's outstretched hand.

"Cheers," Keith said before he drained his mug. He saw Ty'mir take a long swallow as well, staining his facial hair with the purple juice. All the sudden, his vision began to whirl, blood rushed through his ears, and his limbs slackened. He could only sit there in the chair as Ty'mir stood up and approached him.

"Sorry about this, but I know you would never agree to have me teach you to speak the universal tongue."

Keith tried to speak, but his words came out as a strangled gurgle. His right finger twitched as though trying to pull a trigger.

"Normally, I also inhibit fear and aggression responses, but in your case, I'll stop with the language transfer."

The last thing Ty'mir said before Keith blacked out was "if you think this is bad, you'd really hate my sister."

Keith woke up in the stone chair. He looked around and found Ty'mir sitting on the stone pedestal, legs crossed, staring out into the city.

"How do you feel?" Ty'mir asked. Keith knew that the pokemon was speaking a foreign tongue, yet he understood the words as well as English. Keith probed his mind and found what felt like a little switch. He tried shifting his mind and spoke.

"Pissed," Keith answered in English.

"That's surprising. You figured it out almost immediately."

Keith drew his rifle and pointed it at Ty'mir. The pokemon's ears perked up, but it didn't turn around.

"Are you really going to kill me?"

"You changed me."

Ty'mir stood up, but he didn't turn around. "I did."

"I am no longer the same person that first sat down in that chair."

"Correct." Ty'mir turned and walked closer to him. "Nor was that person the same as the one that walked into this city, nor was that Keith the same as the one that walked into the Old Forest. You will not be the same person two minutes from now, nor will that Keith possess the same mind in five minutes."

Keith gripped his rifle tighter and said "you forced this change upon me."

"Change is always forced upon us," Ty'mir retorted. "Change is a response to the outside world, to the wounds we suffer, the joys we experience, the loved ones we leave behind."

"So, all we can do is simply bow our heads and accept the change that happens to us?"

"Yes."

"Bullshit," Keith spat. "People choose how they respond to their environment. Should a path fork two ways, a man may choose right or left. You've robbed me of that choice."

"Are you saying that you would've chosen to accept my gift?"

"How could we know? You never gave me that chance."

Ty'mir fell silent and turned to look out the window. After five minutes of stroking his mustache, he tapped his cane on the floor and turned around.

"You're right. So, do you want it or not?"

"The gift? I'm keeping it, of course."

Ty'mir stroked his forehead with his hand. "Then what was all that for?" he asked.

"That was to get my free will back," Keith answered as he lowered his rifle. "Now, should I be living with Verra for the time being?"

"Whatever for? And how do you know her name?"

"You mentioned it earlier."

"Ah yes. Well, if you insist, I could consider it punishment for her outburst yesterday."

"I was here a whole day?"

"Yes. I should also mention I healed your leg for you."

Keith looked down and saw that the gouge in his leg was just a pink blotch.

"I didn't think you'd drink the whole cup at once," Ty'mir explained as a quill and paper floated towards him. A short message was scrawled onto the paper and tucked into Keith's pack.

"Take that to the guard post. They'll handle the rest."

He had to ask around town a few times before he found the squat stone building. He walked up to the counter and handed the attending ursaring the note.

"Ty'mir's orders, huh?" he asked. "Bout time. Poor girl's bleedin' to death trying to claw her way out of her cell. Follow me."

The ursaring led him downstairs to the jail cells. Of the four, three were empty and well clean. Keith could smell the fourth from the top of the stairs. It reeked of sweat and dried blood.

Verra was lying on her back in a pool of her own blood. Her bandages were torn to blood-soaked shreds that were flung about the cell. When she saw Keith, she lunged at the bars hard enough to make the floor shake.

"We would've moved her sooner, but she attacked anyone that came near her."

"Step back, and I'll open the door," Keith told Verra. The grovyle leered at him, but she stepped through the blood pool and readied herself against the wall.

Keith gestured for the keys, and the ursaring gave the ring to him. Then Keith held out his sniper.

"Take this, and for the love of God, do not touch the scope."

"You're crazy, you know that?"

Keith twisted the lock, and the cell door inched open. Verra flung herself forward, shoving the door out of her way as she lunged for Keith's neck. Keith ducked her talons, spun around, grabbed Verra by the back of her head, and shoved her head-first into a wall. Her muscles went slack in his grip.

"Holy shit," the ursaring said as he handed the rifle back. "You made that look easy."

Keith shrugged and replied "the rock did most the work. Now, is there a doctor that you'd recommend?"


	4. Chapters 7-8

Chapter 7

The walls of the apothecary were lined with clay jars painted with different colors and patterns of stripes. Keith noted that each jar had either horizontal or vertical stripes, and he guessed that the colors indicated which ailments they treated. Only a handful of jars, clustered in one corner of the shop, had horizontal stripes, while the rest were vertical with varying width and length of bands.

Keith opened some of the vertically striped jars – some herbs he recognized, from dandelion root to nightshade, but most were foreign to his nose. The horizontal ones, however, he instantly recognized. Blue stripes had chamomile and peppermint for upset stomachs, red had feverfew, and yellow contained a thick aloe paste.

He was looking inside a jar of mint when he heard Verra stir and moan in the other room. He heard her thrashing around in her restraints.

"Untie me!"

"Oh, hush Verra. Can't have you reopening those wounds. Now, open your eyes. Mm hmm, no concussion, hardly a scratch even."

A huge _thwack_ came from the other room, so loud that Keith was startled into dropping the pot. Dried mint leaves blew across the room as the apothecary flew into a frenzy.

"How could you be so stupid!I told you to wait inside and let you wounds heal, and what do you do? You try to kill someone in the streets, get yourself arrested, and nearly bleed to death trying to claw your way out of a cell!"

"But nana," Verra protested.

"But nothing! Your mother would be ashamed to see how stupid a granddaughter you turned out to be. Pah! I'm not even going to waste any fennos keeping you asleep."

Another loud thump came from the other room, making Keith drop the shards of clay he picked up. The apothecary walked out into the front lobby, holding a cracked wooden cane.

"Sorry about that, didn't mean to startle you," she said, shaking her head at the mess on the floor. "At least it was just mint."

The red patch underneath her throat had softened into a pale pink with age, and the leaf atop her head was long, slightly shriveled, and nearly bleached of its green color.

"I'm not good with loud noises."

"Surprising, considering that weapon of yours." She took a few metal lumps out of her pocket and showed them to him.

"Thanks for mentioning these. I missed them the first time I patched her up."

"Aren't you mad?" Keith asked.

"For what?" The apothecary chuckled and said "grudges are for the young and reckless. I'm just grateful you got my granddaughter home. You hardly even put a scratch on her. I'd like to know how you did it, so I don't have to break another one of my canes."

"Use a rock," Keith suggested. "I'll make sure not to get sick."

"Hah! You get sick and I'll treat you so well, Verra'll go red with envy," she said, picking the pottery shards off the floor."Might teach her a lesson, actually. Anyways, my name's Tylinda, but just call me Lin, young man."

"Keith," he said, holding out his hand.

Lin took his hand and ran her taloned fingers over it, rubbing the calluses on his palm and forefingers.

"Life is full of surprises. I never thought I'd hold the hand that killed my daughter. And yet, here I am." She peered closer at his calluses, leaning so close that Keith could feel her breath on his hand.

"I don't even remember what she looked like. My daughter. Every time I try to picture her, I see her face instead."

"Couldn't Ty'mir─"

"He couldn't. There's nothing left." Lin let go of his hand. "Now do me a favor, and get my stubborn granddaughter home." Lin looked up and smiled. "And be sure to have a rock handy."

As Verra groggily opened her eyes, she noticed with distaste that her wrists were bound, something that was starting to feel far too familiar for her tastes. The smell of soup cooking tickled her nose and made her mouth water.

"Nana, I'm up," she said, but as her eyes focused, she noticed that she was in her own home, lying in her own bed, within arms reach of the crossbows, knives, and traps hanging on the walls. She slid herself up the bedpost and looked around. She first noticed the man sitting next to her hearth. The rifle on his back made her blood boil.

"Care for lunch?" he asked. "Lin told me you like it hot."

Ignoring the pain from her shoulder, she tried yanking her way out of the restraints, but they only got tighter as she thrashed about.

Keith turned from the hearth and said "I'm going to untie the restraints. After that, you have two options. Option A, you try to kill me right now, and considering your injuries and the fact you haven't eaten in two days, well, it won't end well." He picked up a rock sitting next to him to emphasize his point.

"Option B, you eat, regain your strength, and wait for a better chance to kill me" Keith finished as he poured the soup into two wooden bowls.

"You're trying to poison me, aren't you!"

"Don't be stupid. If I wanted to kill you, I'd tie a rope around your neck and let you choke yourself to death."

Verra didn't know what infuriated her more: his words, or the fact he said them with a straight face. The wooden bedposts creaked as she redoubled her efforts to escape.

"I already said I was going to untie you. Why are you still struggling?"

"I'm going to kill you!"

"Not if you keep opening those wounds. Just relax for a few days and think of a better way to kill me."

He untied the restraints and Verra tried lunging at him. However, she tangled herself in the bedsheets and tumbled to the floor.

"Let me help you. You'll just hurt yourself trying to get out."

"Why should I? You always trick me!"

"Trick you how?"

"Something always happens to me when I listen to you" Verra answered, nodding towards the sheets she was trapped in.

"If you'd taken the time to move the sheets, that wouldn't have happened."

"So now you're mocking me!"

"Mocking you?" Keith asked. "I'm just telling the truth. Now have some soup. Actually, I have a better idea."

He slid across the floor over to Verra, holding a bowl of soup in his hand. He dipped a spoon in and held it close to her.

"Now you'll actually eat your soup, instead of trying to strangle me."

Verra sipped up the broth and spat it in his face. He wiped himself off with his shirt and said "you won't kill me that way, so you might as well eat."

She spat another two mouthfuls at him before her hunger, combined with how wonderful the soup tasted, compelled her to eat. After several spoonfuls, Keith held the bowl out to her and gently poured it into her mouth. She drank it all without pausing for a breath.

Keith grabbed a corner of the sheet and unraveled it with a few gentle tugs. Verra shakily rose to her feet.

Keith tried to drain his bowl, but he ended coughing up most of it instead.

"Christ!" he shouted, scraping his tongue with his fingernails.

Verra couldn't help herself. She chuckled as Keith guzzled an entire skin of water and attempted again to scrub the spice from his tongue.

Keith hastily shouldered his pack. "I've got errands to run."

Verra stopped to grab a knife before following him.

Keith strolled from shop to shop, introducing himself, checking prices, and asking about their wares. He made note of business opportunities and the value of their freights, small square pieces of gold measured by weight. Once he had a sense of their currency, he walked over to the smithy, marked by the smell of hot metal and burning coal, a steady cloud of black soot, and the ringing of hammers.

An aggron was tending to the forge, stirring liquid metal and pouring in powders. When he turned around and saw Keith, he plunged his hands into a water bath. The aggron waited for the steam to dissipate before walking over.

Keith held out his hand and said his name. The aggron replied "Dakkel" and shook hands. Keith's hand was soaked with water.

"Oops, that was the salt bath," Dakkel said. "So, what do you need?"

Keith took a clip of bullets out of his pack. He handed the aggron a bullet.

"I need more of these." Keith pried the bullet apart, tore off the percussion cap, and dumped the gunpowder onto a workbench.

"Mind if I have a taste?" Dakkel asked, pointing to the bullet. He took the bullet and rolled it around in his mouth.

"Lead copper alloy." Dakkel took the casing and tasted that as well. "Copper. Has a funny taste, though. Must be that powder."

Dakkel reached for the powder, but Keith stopped him. He slid aside a small pile of powder, took a hammer hanging from the wall, and brought it down on the powder. The table rattled when the powder popped. Verra jumped at the noise, knocking over some tools on the wall.

Keith gestured at the powder. "Seven point five parts saltpeter, one point five charcoal, one sulfur, ground together for two hours makes gunpowder."

"The saltpeter won't be easy, and it'll have to be ground carefully. It'll be expensive."

They haggled the price to seven freight a bullet and a guaranteed purchase of a hundred bullets before Keith left the smithy.

Verra followed Keith out of the smithy, but he stopped just outside of the door.

"What's going on?" she asked, gripping her knife tighter behind her back.

Keith didn't know. She craned her head past him and saw everyone, human and pokemon, pressing themselves close to the buildings, leaving the street empty. Then she saw why.

Izzo was walking down the street, flailing his stumpy yellow arms as his body lurched back and forth. He fell onto his belly, and everyone near him shied away.

Keith looked at the crowd for a moment before stepping forward and offering Izzo a hand.

"No, don't touch me, please!" The ampharos propped himself up on his arms and pushed off. He wobbled on his feet as he regained his footing.

"I'm Keith," he said, holding out his hand.

"I – I'm sorry, but I don't want to hurt you."

Keith pointed to his gloves and said "mareep wool. I'll be fine."

"Mareep wool! I wish I was still a mareep. May, um, may I touch it?"

Keith held his hand out further, and Izzo slowly reached for it. When they touched, Keith grunted in pain and fell to his knee.

"Eep! I'm sorry!"

"No, I am. I forgot my glove was damp. Here, try this one."

Verra didn't even stop to think before she lunged at Keith's back with her knife. Sensing her footsteps, Keith grabbed Izzo with his left hand and Verra's wrist with his right. A shock ran down her arm, making her cry out and drop the knife.

Izzo bounced up and down on his legs, looking back and forth and muttering oh my, oh my, oh my.

"Thank you," Keith said, holding his hand out again. "You saved my life."

"I did? Oh, uh, you're welcome!"

He said his name as they shook hands. The wool around Keith's left hand swelled and crackled with energy.

"Keith? Oh! I'm Izzo."

"I can help you walk home if you want."

"Oh, um, I don't want to trouble you. I – I have it from here, promise!" Izzo waddled off and slid around a corner, sending everyone nearby sprinting for safety.

Verra was still on the ground, nursing her numbed arm when Keith walked over and offered her a hand. She stared coldly at the inflated woolen glove. He looked down and said "oh, right."

A guard walked over, pointing his sword at Verra. The crowd's attention turned towards her.

"Should I arrest her?" the guard asked Keith. "You know, for attempted murder? Ty'mir's orders and all."

"It's fine. Could you help her up, please?"

Once she was up on her feet, everyone slowly dispersed. The guard picked up the knife and left it with Keith before leaving. Keith walked off in a different direction, and Verra followed him.

"He can't control himself, can he?" Keith asked.

"Izzo? He evolved too soon."

Keith reached up to touch his face and stopped an inch short of shocking himself. He whirled around and strode back to the smithy. As Verra crossed the door, Keith slammed his left hand onto the anvil, and the pile of gunpowder sitting on it exploded.

Verra screamed and jumped out the door. Keith hunched over and held his hands over his ears.

"Ow, damn it."

Dakkel lumbered over and asked "Are you okay?" He tried helping Keith up, but Keith, noticing the orange glow of Dakkel's hands, yelped and rolled away.

"What? Oh, oops!" Dakkel plunged his hands into the water barrel.

Keith's eyes were unfocused as he stood up, and he swayed a little on his feet. "I thought of something to help Izzo," Keith said absently.

"Pardon?" Dakkel asked.

"A hundred feet of copper wire, quarter-inch diameter, coated in resin. You might want to coil it up, two foot diameter."

Keith wandered out the store. Dakkel ran after him and shouted "I'll have it ready by tomorrow!"

Verra was outside the smithy, trying to control her shaking when Keith walked over to her. Keith took a deep breath and asked "are you okay? I heard you scream."

"Fine." Verra wondered why he was doing all this. She had to tell herself it was an act, an act, a play, a façade, another trick. Just another trick.

"Good. Let's go hunting."

Just another trick. Isn't it?

Chapter 8

Verra expected him to head for the city gates, but instead, he walked up the stone steps to Ty'mir's house. When they reached the top, Keith knocked firmly on the door.

"Good afternoon, Keith," Ty'mir answered. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"I need to borrow your roof."

Ty'mir walked to the door and looked up. "The roof? You mean, stand on it?"

"Yes."

Ty'mir closed his eyes, and Keith floated up onto the stone roof. Once he was up there, he looked through his scope and slowly spun around.

"Do you know what he's doing?" Ty'mir asked.

"He mentioned hunting," Verra answered, "but I don't know what this is."

"Is that Verra?" a voice asked from inside.

"Ah, yes! Kendra, come out and meet our newest arrival."

"The hunter? I'm coming!"

Kendra took after her departed mother, with her flowing green hair and pale spindly body. Verra always felt close to her for that.

Kendra brushed some dust off her white robes and looked around. "Where is he?"

Verra pointed at the roof. Kendra craned her head up and held an arm over her eyes.

"Oh, there he is! Hi! My name is Kendra and it's a pleasure to meet you."

Keith didn't answer. Kendra was about to speak again when Ty'mir stopped her.

"He's busy at the moment, perhaps we should wait for him to, huh."

At that moment, Keith lowered the scope, stood up straight, and spread his arms out wide, as though he were attempting to drift away. His hair whipped over his eyes, and he nudged his feet around, turning ever so slightly with the wind.

Verra felt her mouth open. She couldn't reconcile the fact that her mother's murderer was standing on a roof, doing an impression of a weathervane. She had to force herself to feel angry.

"Father, what is he─"

"I don't know Kendra," Ty'mir answered. "That's a first."

Keith leapt out of the roof, and Ty'mir, lost in his thoughts, leapt back in surprise when Keith landed in front of him.

"Kendra?" Keith asked, holding out his hand. "Keith. Pleasure."

"The pleasure is all mine, and I would like to welcome─"

"Let's go. Not much daylight left."

"Huh, hey!" Verra called, running after Keith. "Slow down!"

Ty'mir and Kendra stood there at the door, watching them run down the hill and out the city gates. Ty'mir waved a hand, and a mug of fruit juice floated over to him.

"He's weird."

Ty'mir took a sip from his mug. "Layers upon layers. I wish I'd taken a closer look while I was in his mind. Well, let's get back to your studies."

"Yes father."

For as long as Verra could remember, there were three points on her forehead that always burned with anger. They were as much a part of her as her eyes, and she didn't notice they were gone until she reached up to touch them.

"Why?"

"To stay upwind of our prey."

"No, not that," Verra said as she tried to massage the anger back into her head. "Why did you do that?"

"I can't kill you, and I won't let Ty'mir have you. This is the only way I'm willing to resolve things between us."

"Not that either. Why all that on the roof?"

"Oh. I get headaches in crowds. Going up and listening to the wind helps."

They reached the top of a hill, and Keith stopped. Below them was a river.

"Damn it. How deep is it?"

"The river?" Verra asked. "Three feet."

"Too deep. Is there a way around?"

"Not in this direction." Verra was puzzled; Keith seemed too tense for him to simply have distaste for getting wet.

"What about a ford?"

"This is the ford! Can't you swim?"

"Any bridges?"

Verra started to chuckle. "You seriously can't swim, can you?"

"Bridges. Come on, we're wasting time."

"There's a log just east of here."

The log was slick with water and green algae along the sides, and the top was overgrown with moss, mold, and delicate ferns. Water rushed against it, but the log sat firmly across the riverbanks.

Keith gestured for Verra to cross, and she danced across the moss-covered top, dipping her toes into the water and pretending to lose her balance with exaggerated swings of her arms. She flipped onto her hands twirled around twice, and flipped to the other bank.

"Come on!" she called. "It's getting late! Or are you having second thoughts?"

Keith stiffened up as he took the first tentative step onto the log. Verra thought he looked like a toddler as he took tiny shaking steps, holding his arms out in front of him. The last two steps came in a rush and he fell to the ground on the riverbank.

Verra laughed as Keith got up to his feet. She didn't even notice he was leaving until he called to her from a wooded area.

He had picked a grassy spot underneath a massive oak tree, overlooking a gently sloping hill and a few trees. His sniper was pointed at a pidgeot's nest, and the four hatchlings chirping inside of it.

"Tell me you aren't serious."

"Keep quiet," Keith muttered. "Of course I'm serious."

"But you can't just─"

"The male's in the tree above us." As Verra's eyes inched upward, he told her not to look.

Verra lowered her voice and said "You're going to get us killed!"

"Don't whisper either. Just relax and speak normal."

For the next hour, Keith told her about hunting. Wind patterns are best read from high locations. Walk with the wind for hunting small game and into the wind for dangerous predators. Wait at least ten minutes before firing a shot, and always make sure the kill is instant. Dying pokemon tend to spook off other game. If the quarry's still alive, don't waste any ammunition, use a knife. Start hunting in the morning, when everything's drowsy and slow. Stay in a high, shaded area, keep still, wait for the wind to fade before firing a shot. Always listen to your surroundings. Listening keeps you alive. Be patient. More patient predators kill less patient ones.

After an hour, the mother flew back into the nest, gripping a plump, wriggling caterpillar in its beak.

"When I pull the trigger, close your eyes and roll over to your right. Don't move or open your eyes until I say to. Keep your breathing slow and even, and don't move."

"You're going to kill the mother? How could you?"

"Relax." The gun fired. She quickly rolled over and clenched her eyes shut. She heard wingbeats drifting towards her from the tree, stopping on the ground. The pidgeot walked towards her with the sound of torn grass and a clicking beak. It stopped at Keith, and she heard the pidgeot peck at his clothing, tap him on the chest, and roll him over. Then it walked over to her.

She kept telling herself to relax, but her muscles clenched tighter as she heard the ground being torn up by the pidgeot's talons. She flinched when the pidgeot's beak touched her head, and the giant bird hissed.

She almost opened her eyes and ran, but a call came from the nest, and the pidgeot flew off, coating her in specks of dirt from the takeoff.

"Let's go."

Verra opened her eyes and looked down at the nest. She counted the hatchlings and wondered what he had shot. Then a pidgeot flew into the nest with an ekans in its mouth. The snake had a neat, bloody hole through its temple.

"We're wasting time," Keith said, "and unless you'd like to hunt out here all night, I suggest we get moving."

Keith's pack held six zigzagoon, two pidgey, and a bundle of smelly green herbs as they walked back to the city. Keith stopped at the log and threw the pack to the other side.

As Keith breathed in and approached the log, an idea came to Verra's head. She crept forward, until her hand was an inch from Keith's back, and shoved.

Keith tensed up the moment her hand touched him. He sank to his knees, grabbed her arm, tugged her onto his shoulder, and hurled her into the river.

Verra thrashed around and pushed her head out of the water. Her anger vanished when she wiped her eyes and saw the barrel of the rifle pointed at her.

Keith's hands shook as he held the rifle. His face was pale, and his jaw muscles twitched as he ground his teeth. His eyes stared straight into hers. She sat there in the stream, water rushing past her, too terrified to move.

His breathing grew slower and deeper with each breath he took. His hands stopped shaking, and as he slowly lowered his rifle, he sank to his knees. Then he slung the rifle over his shoulder, crawled across the log, wiped his hands on some grass, took his pack, and left.

Verra waded to the other shore and sat there. Her legs were shaking too much for her to walk. Just before sunset, she picked herself up and returned to town. She caught herself on the path to her own house and changed directions.

Her grandmother was grinding leaves when she came into the store. She looked up and rushed into the other room, then walked out with a bundle of old clothes.

"You're soaking wet! Get in these before you get chills."

Once she changed, her grandmother sat her down at the table in the back and poured cups of tea. Though it was steaming hot, Verra drained her mug in a single swallow.

"What happened?"

"I did something terrible. To Keith."

"Keith? Why, he was just here a few hours ago."

Verra set down her mug and tried to think, but every time she phrased her story in her mind, she saw Keith's frightened face and the dark, empty hole in his weapon.

"No," she told herself as she stood up, "this isn't right."

"What isn't?"

"Thanks for the tea, nana. I have to go now."

Verra paused at the door of her house. She could hear him inside. Inch by inch, she opened the door and walked inside. Keith was sitting on the floor, his back turned to the door, cleaning his disassembled rifle with an old gray rag. A pile of freight sat next to him in a sloppy pile, glittering in the firelight. She could smell meat, drizzled with juices of spice berries.

Verra took a deep breath. "I─" The memory returned to her, the memory of her first gunshot, of her mother falling to the ground, of the ring-eyed man cutting her up, running his fingers over her headleaf before he sliced it off.

"I – I'm sorry." She took another deep breath and sat down on her bed. "For making fun of you, and trying to push you in. I'm ashamed of myself for being so cruel."

Keith didn't respond. He bunched up the rag around a thin twig and rammed it down the barrel, scrubbing out the black residue that coated the rifling. Verra walked over to him, sat down next to him, and put her hand on his shoulder. He flinched, but he didn't move as Verra leaned against him and watched him scrub his rifle clean.

Ty'mir and Kendra stood at the window, watching storm clouds gather in the north. The mass of clouds seemed to writhe and breathe as they moved towards the city.

"I think," Ty'mir said, "you better get home before the storm hits."

"Okay father. Good night."

As Kendra walked down the steps, Ty'mir watched the clouds, holding the cane next to him with his mind. A single purple bolt raced across the clouds, and Ty'mir's psychic grip flickered. The cane fell to the floor. Ty'mir picked it up and turned it over in his hands.

A twinge of pain, in between his ears, made him blink his eyes. It grew, worming its way through his head. He lowered himself to the floor, gripping his head as the pain slowly blackened his world.


	5. Chapters 9-10

Chapter 9

The faintest of sounds woke Keith up that morning. It was like the sound of a pin dropping, if that pin were half a ton and half a mile away.

Verra walked into the room and asked "what's for breakfast?"

Keith pressed a finger against his lips and whispered "don't even breathe."

He heard it again, from the north. He ran out of the hut towards the hill.

"Hey!" Verra shouted as she ran. "Wait!"

Everyone walked and worked, unaware of the sound Keith heard. They gave Keith curious glances as he ran past. Keith launched himself up the stone steps and knocked on Ty'mir's door. The Elder's groaning was the only answer.

Verra, breathing raggedly, finally caught up with him. "What's going on?"

Keith kicked the door down and ran inside. Ty'mir was lying on the floor, clutching his head. His cane had rolled into the kitchen.

Verra dashed over to his side. "Elder! What's wrong?"

"Save them," he whispered. "Save them, oh please save them! It's coming, I can feel it!"

"What's coming?" Verra asked as Keith ran outside and clambered up the stone wall. He crouched down on the roof, drew his rifle, and swept the scope out over the horizon.

It was half again the height of the trees it trampled, covered in a thick armor of green limestone. Its eyes dripped with a smoky black substance, as though it were crying. The monster marched straight for the city, knocking aside the hills and trees in its path.

Keith adjusted the angle of his scope, adjusting for the half-mile bullet path. He noted the swaying of tree branches and pointed the sniper rifle a few degrees east, then he pivoted a few left to account for the Coriolis effect. Then he fired, and black smoke shot out of the barrel of his gun.

The bullet flew towards the monster's right shoulder, but it was stopped short by a violet barrier. He fired three more shots in rapid succession, and each impact was absorbed in a flash of violet light.

He saw the roar before he heard it. The grass bent towards the city in a wave, and he could see a distortion in the light at the edge of the sound wave. He saw the wave-front echo off the hills, deadening the impact of the roar. Nevertheless, the roar reached the city powerful enough to make the city dead quiet for a few seconds.

Keith fired the rest of his clip, spreading his aim across the monster's body. He found no gap in its defenses.

Two guards ran up the stairs and into Ty'mir's house. Keith heard them ask what was happening and Vera responded I don't know.

"Here's what's happening," Keith said after he jumped off the roof. "Ty'mir's ill and a fifty foot monster is about to attack the city. We have three hours. What's the most powerful weapon we have?"

One guard answered swords, and the other, Keith's rifle.

"That won't do. It has a barrier. We need something powerful, a bigger gun, no wait, a cannon!"

Keith threw himself down the hill, using each set of steps he ran into to steady himself before sliding down the next grassy section. When he reached the bottom, he found everyone milling about the steps to Ty'mir's abode.

"Ty'mir is ill and a monster's attacking the city," he quickly said as he walked over to Dakkel. "I need a barrel like my rifle, six feet long, six inches thick, eight inch hole, smaller hole in the end for a fuse. Also, iron spheres, a quarter inch smaller diameter, as many as you can make. Bring all the gunpowder you have, and make more. We have three hours."

He gave a quick salute before he ran off, dragging several others along with him.

"Everyone else, follow him. He'll need help making the gunpowder. Tell him we need half a pound for each shot. Anyone who can't grind a mortar and pestle, get digging. We need a deep trench just outside the city, something to slow it down."

He saw Izzo running after them, and Keith stopped him with a shout.

"You can't make the powder, you'll set it off."

The ampharos seemed to wilt at hearing this. He grew even sadder when he admitted his stumpy arms couldn't do any digging. He waddled off to watch from one of the buildings.

Keith spent the next two hours digging alongside thirty other pokemon. It surprised him how efficiently they could move dirt, whether with their arms, or with blasts of water, or by simply eating it. By the time the cannon was ready, the trench was fifty feet deep, twenty feet wide, and hundreds of feet long.

The couriers said "here's what's ready" as they brought the cannon, six cannonballs, five feet of candle wick, and a barrel of powder. Keith ran a hand into the barrel to feel the rifling, then he pointed to a blue burly pokemon and a blaziken and sent the rest back to the smithy.

"Name?" he asked, facing the blue pokemon.

"Al."

"Yours?"

"Kaves," the blaziken answered.

"Al, you'll load and aim the cannon. Kaves, you'll light it."

Keith cut a length of wick and stuck it through the fuse holder as Al poured the powder down the barrel and rammed the cannonball into place. Then dirt was piled in front of the cannon to raise its launch angle.

Kaves took in a deep breath, but Keith held a hand out and said "we have to make each shot count."

Five mintues later, he gave the order to clear the ditches. Once everyone was behind the cannon, Kaves lit the fuse, and the cannon belched forth a huge plume of smoke. The cannonball glanced off the monster's barrier, causing it to ripple violently.

Al moved the cannon a few degrees to the right while two others reloaded. With the exception of one misfire, each cannonball found their mark, punching through the shield and leaving cracks in the monster's stone armor. The spare ammunition arrived five minutes after the last shot, and with it, everyone that worked on the powder.

Dakkel planted the barrel of gunpowder in front of him and said "that's it. We're out of saltpeter."

"I'll make it count."

The batch, however, was hastily made. The first two shots were too weak to punch through the barrier, and the third failed to ignite. By the time they cleaned out the barrel, the monster was close enough for the remaining shots to leave more cracks. Gray blood dripped down the front, and its breathing seemed to come in pained jerks.

The last of the powder was loaded into the barrel, and with a solemn nod, Kaves lit the final wick. The cannon roared, and the cannonball slammed into the monster's chest. Most of the rocky armor fell off, revealing the veiny blue flesh underneath. Blood poured from the wound, but the monster stayed on its feet. It took in a deep breath.

"Cover your ears!" Keith shouted.

The roar didn't have nearly the force of its first, but Keith's ears throbbed beneath his hands, and a few glass windows cracked.

Keith sank to his knees next to the cannon. His mind went blank, and for the first time, he felt as though the rest of the world didn't exist. All he felt was his own shock.

The stone monster reached the trench. It looked down, and then it hopped off the edge and landed with a heavy thud.

The last cannonball, rocked by the shockwave, rolled towards him. Keith reached out for it, held it in his hands. It felt cold and heavy, like a dead egg. His hand tightened around it, and he lifted it. He couldn't give up, not while there was another shot.

"But how to fire it? There's no gunpowder, what else can do it?" His mind raced through everything he saw in the city, then he saw Izzo's sad face, felt his hand jerk at the memory of the handshake, remembered the power plants from Konago.

"Dakkel! Get the wire!"

The aggron looked up in confusion. "Wire?"

"Yes! The copper wire! Go!"

His face lit up, and he ran off to the forge. Everyone standing around him started looking towards him with hope in their eyes.

"Has anyone seen Izzo?" Keith asked them.

"Izzo? Wasn't he here a moment ago? He couldn't have gone far! Quickly, let's find him!"

Everyone split up into teams to scour the city just as Dakkel, out of breath, returned with a black coil of wire.

"Insulated? Excellent! How much?"

"A hundred feet. Now what?"

Dakkel and Keith wrapped the wire around the cannon's barrel in a tight coil, then he stripped each end with his knife. One end was held up at the cannon's base, and the other was trailed away from the cannon and planted into the ground. The tyranitar was clambering its way out of the trench, and Izzo was still nowhere to be found.

Dakkel asked "What now?" as he rolled the cannonball down the barrel.

"Find him," Keith said, "and send him here. I'll slow it as long as I can."

As the city of Palumpur buzzed with Izzo's name, Keith leaned over the edge of the trench and fired bullet after bullet at the beast's head, emptying clip after clip into its ephemeral violet shield. When he ran out of bullets, he flung stones, tools, anything he could get his hands on. The monster stared at him as it dug itself a ramp. Keith was about to fling his knife when the dirt beneath him collapsed, forcing him to stagger backwards.

As he turned, he saw Izzo waddling as fast as his stumpy legs could carry him. Keith tried shouting at him.

"You need to shock the wire!"

Izzo ran next to him, stopped, and said "what was that?"

The monster rose out of the pit and lifted its stony fist into the air.

Izzo's fur tingled and cracked as he asked "what now?" The fist fell. Keith made a hasty calculation and realized that the cannon would be crushed before he could properly instruct Izzo. He had only one option.

"Forgive me," Keith whispered. He grabbed Izzo by the back of his neck, shoved his head onto the exposed copper, and jabbed his knife into the ampharos' neck. Blood spurted out of the wound, soaking Keith's hand and spraying droplets onto his face. Izzo jerked, and a surge of electricity poured from his fur, traveling in two directions.

For a single second, electricity rushed through the copper coil, and the cannon lurched forward. The cannonball shot out the barrel and flew into the monster's exposed belly, making the squishy blue flesh explode in a mist of blood and gristle. It shrieked in pain and toppled backwards into the trench.

Electricity also rushed through Keith arm. The mareep wool on his arm burned with his own flesh, and he could feel the heat seep into his bones. He couldn't help but scream, but his body was in such agony his lungs wouldn't draw in air. He staggered away from the cannon, mouth agape, screaming silently as he reached out with his charred hand. Fingerbones, gray and smoking, fell from his hand as the tendons burned.

He saw Ty'mir standing next to him, holding a hand over his head before he passed out.

Chapter 10

Pain woke Keith. His eyes sprang open and he leapt up, screaming hoarsely. His eyes darted to a pitcher of water next to him and he poured it all down his throat. He dropped the pitcher when he saw his right hand. All his fingers were there, stripped down to a translucent layer of skin, through which he could see every vein pulse and tendon twitch. He pulled the sleeve of his robe up. His arm seemed as though chunks of muscle were gouged out and the delicate skin seamlessly patched up.

Verra came running to his side, holding a bundle of herbs and rags. She looked over his arm and wrapped the cloth around the fragile skin.

"Are you alright?" she asked. "I heard you drop something."

"I'm fine. Just dropped the pitcher."

"I see. Could you stand up please?"

Keith shuffled his legs over to the edge of his bed, propped himself up, and leaned against a wall as he stood. When he pushed himself off the wall, Verra gut-punched him. He doubled over and felt a knife pressed against his throat.

"I'd kill you right now, but Ty'mir gave too much for you."

Keith thought about Izzo's death as he gasped for breath. His hands felt tainted with the helpless pokemon's blood.

"Do it," he said.

"What?"

"It's what you want, isn't it? I killed your mother. I killed Izzo. Don't I deserve to die?"

Verra's grip tightened around his shoulders, and he felt blood trickle down his neck. Her hands shook as she held him, and the knife sawed a jagged cut into his neck. Then she let go, threw the knife against a wall, and stormed out of the room.

Keith picked up the knife with his left hand. It was longer and wider in the handle than his own knife, yet the resemblance made him relive that moment. He pointed the blade towards his chest and stopped. His emotions confused him. He set the knife down, sat on his bed and contemplated his grief. He asked himself why he felt sad, but nothing answered him.

He walked out of the room and found himself in Ty'mir's house. He saw the yellow pokemon sitting on the pedestal, facing the open window.

"Is that you, Keith?" he asked. "I heard Verra run out a second ago."

Keith knew something was wrong when Ty'mir reached for the cane with his hand. He leaned over his cane, using it to prop himself up. Ty'mir turned around, and Keith saw the large purple scar that covered his eyes and the upper half of his face.

"Keith, I have a favor to ask of you. I would like you to lead this city."

It took a moment for Keith to make sense of those words. When he did realize what Ty'mir asked of him, he felt another emotion sloshing around in his head, one he also never felt before. He started laughing, weakly at first, gradually growing louder until the force of his laughter made him cough. His breathlessness forced him to his knees, laughing and coughing until his tears mixed with the blood on his neck.

"I just killed one of your people, and I've killed hundreds more ever since I was a child. You want me – me! – leading them?"

"None of them would be alive without you," Ty'mir countered. "As you organized the city and defeated that monster, I was rolling around on my own floor, pounding my head against the stone. I was useless.

"So you think it's better that I sacrifice the city one person at a time?"

"You won't have to! You can prepare them for the next battle, and the next. You alone have the experience with fighting dangerous opponents."

Keith pounded his left hand on the kitchen counter. "I don't even know most of these people! How could I gain their trust when I don't even know their own names?"

"Do you see this?" Ty'mir asked, pointing at his scars. "I got these healing your arm."

"You shouldn't have."

"Perhaps you're right, but I didn't heal your arm because I thought you deserved it, or because everyone down there needs you. I did it because I was selfish."

Ty'mir hobbled over to a chair and sat down. "Ever since I was a child, I hated my powers. I was always told I had those powers came with a responsibility towards everyone around me. I had to help the wounded, give shelter to the poor, provide for the needy. My sister reveled in her power, using it to help anyone she wanted, but I just wanted to be left alone. Instead, people flocked to me for aid, and over time, this city grew. As more people arrived, they placed a greater strain on my mind. I had to create and teach a whole language just to keep the peace! Many times, I contemplated drinking poison to rid myself of this curse, but I couldn't, not with the knowledge of how much everyone below me would suffer. Then you came and saved these people when I could not. You nearly gave your life to protect this town, and in you, I saw an opportunity. I regenerated as much of your flesh as I could, and the energy backlash robbed me of my powers and sight. Now, I can live in peace, the selfish dream I always held in my heart."

"And that gives you the right to dump all your responsibility on me?"

"What can I say?" Ty'mir asked, waving his cane. "I'm a selfish bastard and I'm unfit for leadership."

"You're unfit? I can't even stand to be around people. Crowds give me headaches, and anytime there's a party, even when it's for me, I always sneak off and sit alone."

"I'm blind as a bat! I couldn't even tell you where the door was in my own house!"

"I can't swim!" Keith shouted. "Do you think I'd have anyone's respect if they saw me try to cross a river?"

"I'm so frail, I can't even walk across my own home without a cane, much less a river!"

Kendra walked into the room, and both of them fell silent. "I can't believe you," she said. "You could've sent for me, and you didn't."

"You were still unconscious─"

"Shut up! Stop lying to me! You could've kept him alive and wait for me, but instead, you chose to injure yourself because you were sick of being powerful! You want someone else to rule? Fine! I'll do it! I'll do what you're too weak and lazy to do."

"Kendra, wait!" Ty'mir shouted, but Kendra stormed out. "Damn it, I can't let my daughter take this burden!"

Keith wiped the blood off his neck. "But it's okay to dump it on me," he retored.

"That's not what I meant! She's too young and inexperienced!"

"Then lend her your experience. It's better that she make her mistakes now, when you're alive to help her, than later, when you're not. Like it or not, she's pegged to be the next leader, and only you can make her ready for it."

Ty'mir rubbed the scars on his eyes. "Why do you have to be right?"

Keith said thank you as he walked out the door. He glanced up at the sun and saw that it was late in the evening. Kendra was waiting outside, twirling her green hair in her slender fingers.

"Thanks for talking him into it."

Keith gave her a mock salute. "Acting purely out of self-interest."

"You're not done yet. My father was right about one thing, that you're the only one that can defend this town. I need you to organize the town guard and fortify our defenses."

"So, you want me to be your General?"

"Our general what?" Kendra asked.

"Fine, I'll do it."

"Good. You should talk to Verra. She'll be wating by Izzo's grave."

As they walked down the steps, Keith asked her how many days had gone by.

"Almost a week," she answered. "Father was afraid you wouldn't wake up. Verra was by your side the whole time."

"Really? She was probably waiting to give me this," he said, pointing at the cut on his neck.

"Ugh, when will she ever learn? Here, let me see."

"Leave it, please. I've been healed enough."

"I need the practice."

"Practice on someone else," Keith retorted.

Kendra straightened up and smoothed back her hair. "As the new leader of Palsitore, I hereby order you to allow me to heal your cut."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then you'll undermine my authority, and you'll have to lead the city."

Keith held his head back, exposing the cut on his neck. Kendra ran her fingers over the cut, and the wound glowed white for a second as his skin fused together. Keith touched the newly-healed skin and rubbed some dried blood between his fingers. He looked over at Kendra, who was looking paler than usual, and asked if she was feeling alright.

"I'm fine, just a little dizzy. I'm just… I'll be fine."

Kendra muttered to herself as Keith set her on his shoulder. He walked down the remaining steps and asked a blue muscular pokemon for directions. After placing Kendra in her bed, he walked over to Izzo's grave. In front of the mound where the monster was buried, the cannon was buried, the barrel pointed into the ground. The insulation had burned away, and the copper wire that had fused with the barrel glowed in the light of the setting sun.

Verra was staring at the grave. Five others were paying their respects, and they left when they saw Keith. Once they were gone, Keith walked up and stood next to her.

"Why did you kill Izzo?" she asked. "You needed his electricity to fire the cannon, right? So couldn't you have made him touch it?"

"It needed more than that. He didn't have time to charge up, so all that was left was killing him. But if I had just sent word out of my plan, then─"

Verra punched him in the nose. Keith picked himself up off the ground, gingerly touched his nose, and wiped up the blood trickling out his nostrils.

"It's bad enough that you make me feel stupid for hating you. Now you have the gall to hate yourself and show me how stupid I was? And over something you did right, no less." Verra took a deep breath and turned around. "Let's go. You should get that cleaned up."

They walked together back to Verra's hut. His sniper rifle was sitting in pieces on a rag in the middle of the floor.

"I cleaned it for you," she explained, "but I didn't know how to put it back together."

She tore off a clean piece of cloth, poured water on it, and cleaned the blood off his face. She tore off a longer strip and wound it around his head, holding his nose in place.

"Now what?" Keith asked as he put the pieces of his rifle back together. Within seconds, he screwed the barrel back in place and set it on a shelf.

"I still want to hate you, but I'll try something else instead."

Verra leaned forward and hugged him. Keith stood there, too shocked to move his arms.

"Yeah, you're right," she said, "This was a stupid idea."

Before she could draw away, though, Keith slowly wrapped his arms around her. They stood together for about ten minutes. Verra tapped the floor with her foot and Keith listened to the passerby outside the house.

"How long are we supposed to do this?" Verra asked.

"I don't know, but I think we could stop now."

"Oh." Verra let go, said good-night, and plopped down in her bed. Keith loosened his bandages and eased himself into his hammock. As he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, he listened to the town outside. It too slept, yet he could sense the life around him, the life that was spared because he killed Izzo. He felt the bandage around his nose soak up his tears.


	6. Chapters 11-12

Chapter 11

Late spring advanced into early autumn. The harvest was brought in, and Palsitore's markets had grain and vegetables piled high on the vendor's stands. Kendra patrolled the markets, checking the prices and calculating how much the city would need for winter.

Construction of Izzo's Wall neared completion, and the forty-foot high gray stone edifice, topped with a narrow walkway and crowned with eight towers, surrounded all but the west gate. Dakkel had spent countless hours at his forge, crafting the cannons, ammunition, and powder to outfit each tower with its own cannon and each soldier with his own gun.

Keith was charged with training Palsitore's new soldiers. When he wasn't hunting, he was drilling the recruits. He taught them to aim and fire their own weapons and the cannons and how to clean them, to be vigilant of their surroundings even with cannons firing, to obey orders from superior officers, and to stay alive. The plains and hills beyond Palsitore's new walls were littered with craters, and the faint smell of gunpowder wafted through Palsitore's streets.

Under Ty'mir's supervision, Kendra implemented a City Council, of which herself, Ty'mir, Keith, Dakkel, Lin, Hanek, and three others were a part of. They met in Ty'mir's home every month to present and resolve the city's problems. This month, however, presented the Council with its largest problem to date.

A large, circular stone table had been hastily carved and placed in Ty'mir's main room. Squat stone chairs of varying sizes sat around the table. Each member took their seat, and the City Council's third session began with an announcement.

"We're out of saltpeter," Dakkel said. "And without a new supply, I can't make more gunpowder."

"How much do we have at the moment?" Kendra asked.

"Sixty barrels," Keith answered. "The soldiers are done training, but they'll need regular drills to stay fit for combat. At the rate we use powder, we'll be out in a year, two at most."

"Couldn't we use other weapons?" merchant representative Siroe asked. He stroked his clammy blue skin and tapped his beak. "Those cannons are quite expensive, you know."

"We could try catapults," Keith answered, "but there's no guarantee they would work against another monster. It's worth a try, though, and we could always put them on top of the towers."

"I don't like that uncertainty," Kendra said with a flick of her hair. "We need a new source of saltpeter."

"There's nothing around here," Dakkel said. "We would have to journey many miles to find another source."

"Do you know of any such sources?" Ty'mir asked Keith. "Surely you've seen something on your hunting expedition."

"I wouldn't know," Keith answered, "but I do know of a very large source of saltpeter, one that would last for centuries."

"You refer to your old village, do you not?" Ty'mir asked.

"Yes. There's a mountain just outside the village. They used to mine it, but the Empire's arrival allowed them to trade for gunpowder, and the mine was abandoned."

"Are you proposing that we buy our saltpeter?" Siroe asked. "Do you have any idea how expensive that will be?"

"Very cheap, actually. My village, Konago, relies heavily on hunting goods to trade. I was their only hunter. By now, their supplies will be running low, and the Empire will turn a blind eye to their need. They'll need refined iron and gunpowder."

"And we make a tidy profit in the process," Siroe finished. "I approve of this plan."

"You agree to this without knowing all that it entails," Ty'mir pointed out. "For one, it's many miles away, and through the Old Forest as well."

"We'll also need wagons," Hanek said, "to carry the trade goods back and forth."

"And more iron. My smithy can't make enough iron for two settlements."

"I have a plan," Kendra declared. "We'll still need the wagons and iron, but we can shorten the trip and avoid the Old Forest entirely. I can make a Rift between our villages."

Ty'mir stood up and slammed his cane onto the table. "Absolutely not! Even with two psychics, it would be too dangerous! How would you even make the second Nexus?"

"With this." Kendra took an amethyst pendant out of her robes and placed it on the table. "I've been storing energy in this ever since you taught me how. With this, I could raise mountains and halt rivers. I can make the Rift."

"You still need a psychic at each nexus."

"You'll be the other psychic," Kendra said, "by using my pendant."

"I can't. It wasn't my psychic energy that has left me, but my ability to use it. Your plan will never work."

"We can't know that until we try. In any event, we can still walk there if need be. Let's prepare the wagons and trade goods. Any objections?"

"Yes," Keith said. "You've all overlooked something important." He waved a hand across the table. "The people of my village would kill pokemon on the spot, and if the Empire ever learned of this city's existence, they would wage war with us until there wasn't a single person left here. We need to keep the Empire ignorant of both your identities and the location of this city."

The Council debated the issue and agreed to set the Rift a few weeks away from the village, make everyone in the trading parties wear thick, loose fitting clothes for 'religious reasons', and keep the pokemon too big for the costume charade in chains. Keith voted along with Kendra, Siroe, and four others in favor of Kendra's final plan.

Over the winter, Dakkel expanded his forge and recruited apprentices. Together, they created farming implements, firearms, and iron ingots. Trees were chopped down, carved, and assembled into wagons. Keith drilled the soldiers in the snow, forcing them to wade and fire in snowbanks six feet thick, and he spent his remaining time working alongside the construction teams, holding up beams while they were nailed in place.

The trading expedition was ready once the snows melted. Everyone gathered outside of the city to watch the creation of the Rift. The wagons stood ready, loaded with iron, gunpowder, and a few boxes of dried meats and fruits sitting below a pile of empty boxes. The trading expedition had already donned their costumes and chains. There were fourteen costumes in total, each a colorful, round, oversized wicker masks accompanied by bulky black robes.

Verra had insisted on going, on the grounds that she was most used to the stifling attire, and had brought her own mask and robes. Keith could see little red circles where the bullet holes were mended together.

Keith had his own attire, but he argued against wearing a mask. After racking their brains, the Council decided to grant him exemption from all the fake rules on grounds of his contributions to the city. He wore a tighter-fitting version of the robes, fitted with iron plates along the chest and sleeves to resemble armor.

Kendra held out the amethyst pendant, and Ty'mir accepted it with a frown. He held the pendant in front of him and furrowed his brow.

"Nothing happened," he said.

"Then try again," Kendra insisted.

"Why do you insist on making a Rift? It's a waste of the power you spent years pouring into your mother's necklace."

"Give it here," Keith said. Ty'mir dropped the amethyst into his hand. "Kendra is right. The longer we're gone, the more likely we shall return to a smoking ruin. We should all try it, to see if one of us has a hidden gift."

"I already scoured the city for such gifts," Ty'mir retorted. "None here can wield psychic energy."

"Then one of us will have to prove you wrong. I'll go first."

As Keith held the pendant in his hand, he realized that he had no idea what to do. He thought over what he did well and decided to try to listen for the energy. He held the amethyst up to his ear and closed his eyes. The onlookers fell silent as Keith strained his sense of hearing. Then he heard a faint, high-pitched drone. A pulse of energy traveled up his hand, searing his nerves like a static shock. Another pulse followed, expanding the burning sensation to his wrist.

"It's happening!" Keith shouted. "Go!"

Kendra vanished with a flash of white light, and the crowd backed away. Keith looked at his hand and saw a web of purple lines digging through his flesh, spreading out from the amethyst like a root. Another pulse throbbed through his arm, and the roots surged towards his shoulder. The pulses grew quicker, searing his arm with the beating of his heart. The pain crawled up his shoulder, then through his chest and towards his other hand. He held his left hand forward, palm facing the east, as thin purple lines floated from his fingertips.

The threads hung in the air, dancing around as though blown by a breeze, then they jerked eastward, stretching five feet from his palm. The space at the ends of the threads turned cloudy purple disk, and blue sparks arced between the threads. The amethyst poured out power, creating a thick purple band that traveled up his arm, making it feel as though his arm were dipped in molten lead.

He tried to drop the pendant, but neither of his hands could move. He gritted his teeth as the band flowed through his chest, up his left arm, and out his hand. The purple power coalesced into a berry-sized sphere that shot like a bullet into the nebulous disk. The sphere and disk exploded outward and solidified into a paper-thin purple crystal doorway, a thick jagged semicircle buried in the earth. He could see Kendra passed out on the long, lush grass on the other side.

Once the power left him, Keith fell to his knees and vomited on the ground. The spices from breakfast burned his throat and tongue.

"Water," he gasped. He crawled back towards the city, his vision fading with each handful of dirt he grasped. He felt himself being picked up, but he couldn't see who carried him. A soft bed appeared beneath him a few minutes later, and he passed out seconds after his head sank into the pillow.

Chapter 12

Keith woke up in an unfamiliar room, staring up at a low wooden ceiling. He could still taste the spicy vomit at the back of his throat. The smell, a complex and nose-tingling mixture of herbal scents, told him it was Lin's apothecary. He could hear the old grovyle grinding herbs at her counter.

He shoved the sheets off himself when an idea struck him. The thought of another bout of crippling pain worried him, but he needed to know if he had psychic powers. He concentrated on the sheets, imagining the sensations he felt making the Rift. Though he focused his hearing to the point he could hear the blood swishing and sloshing through his body, he couldn't find a trace of psychic energy, and the sheets remained a limp and lifeless mass at his feet.

Lin walked into the room, carrying a jar in her hands. She set it down in a box and looked over towards his bed.

"Ah! You're awake! How do you feel?"

"Fine. Did the wagons leave?"

Lin chuckled. "They still haven't gotten the wagons through. You've only been asleep for an hour."

"I should go help." Keith stood up, but Lin held him down by the shoulders.

"For God's sake, just give yourself a moment! Besides, I have a favor to ask of you. I just don't know how to put it."

"You had an hour to think about it."

"Well, yes, but it isn't that easy. Ah, to hell with it, I'll be blunt. Are you familiar with the concept of going into heat?"

"Yes? Where is this going?"

"Verra's going to go into heat soon, probably within the next month. It will be her first time, so she may not realize what's happening until it is too late." Lin rummaged around her boxes and pulled out a cloth-wrapped bottle. "If you notice her acting strangely – especially if her headleaf sticks up – give her a bit of this. It'll help her sleep it off."

"Why me? Why not have Kendra, or someone else do it?"

"Kendra wouldn't allow her to go if she knew, and the others won't be around her enough. So, do you promise me you'll help her?"

Keith took the bottle and stored it in his pack. "I'll do what I can."

Lin gave him a quick hug and escorted him out of the store. Keith walked over to the wagons and spoke with the pokemon lifting the wagons through the Rift.

"Were my furs loaded onto a wagon? I didn't see them earlier."

"That was the first wagon through," the blue, muscular pokemon answered. "Kendra's waiting on the other side to talk to you. Be careful, though, crossing through is rough."

Keith stepped through the translucent purple gap in reality and emerged on the other side, his stomach heaving up the sticky, acidic residues left in his stomach. Someone handed him a basket, and he spat out some bile into it.

Kendra walked up to him, keeping a few feet away from the makeshift bucket. "I guess you're glad you got that out of the way earlier. I couldn't stop throwing up for five minutes."

Keith set down the box and held a hand over his queasy stomach. "Is it supposed to do that?"

"No, and it isn't supposed to be jagged either. You just need practice."

"Practice with what? My psychic powers? I don't have any."

"Of course you do," Kendra said. "How else did you make a Nexus?"

"If I'm a psychic, then why didn't Ty'mir sense it?"

"Because─"

"And how come I didn't pass out when the monster attacked?"

"Well, you─"

"And why can't I do anything now?" Keith asked. "I tried moving my bedsheets a few minutes ago, and nothing happened."

"You're not powerful enough, that's why."

"Maybe the amethyst acted on its own."

"It doesn't work like that," Kendra explained. She held up the pendant. "Its power has to be tapped by someone, or to be more precise, some psychic. Just take it and try again."

"I nearly died last time, and you want me to try again? Take a look at my memories and tell me it's a good idea."

"Fine, but if I disagree, then you'll practice." She placed her hand over Keith's forehead and closed her eyes. When she opened her eyes again, she teleported away. She returned twenty minutes later, as Keith was helping to haul the wagons through the Rift.

"You're right," she said, "you're not psychic. Father thinks this is because he reconstructed your arm, and the lingering traces of energy allowed the amulet's energy to flow through you. And since that could make your arm explode, I won't ask you to do it again."

"Oh, alright." But a shadow of doubt lingered in his mind. The theory didn't explain how the energy moved through his whole body, nor how he could hear the amulet. He debated pressing the issue and decided to stay silent.

Two hours later, the wagons were through and moving. Six blue, muscular pokemon, which Keith learned were called Machoke, wore thick leather collars around their necks and pulled the wagons. A man walked in front of each wagon, clearing thick patches of brush with long iron scythes, and the remaining eight rested in an empty wagon with Kendra. Keith and Verra held the rear. Keith watched the trees, listening for predators, while Verra watched the skies.

"How far are we?" she asked as they walked.

"About three weeks. We got lucky, the forest is thin in this area. We'll have to cross a river, though."

"How wide is it?"

"See for yourself," Keith replied. A few seconds later, a call came from the front.

"River ahead!"

Keith and Verra walked to the front of the convoy. Everyone had left the wagons and gathered around the river. The river sat at the bottom of a ravine six feet wide, and though it flowed quickly, it wasn't more than a foot deep. A few bright-red fish wriggled their way between the rocks, and plants clung to the rocky shores.

"Is there a way across?" Kendra asked.

"We better do it here. The ravine widens out and turns to marshlands in either direction. We can't get the wagons through that."

"I better build a bridge then." She held out her hand, and a glowing purple span eight feet wide stretched across the ravine.

"Wait," Keith said. "Make it look crude. It would seem suspicious if the bridge was elegantly designed."

The purple glow brightened, then it faded away, leaving behind two thick wooden planks, unevenly cut and splintering along their lengths. The planks were set wide apart enough to accommodate the wagons.

"Will this do?" Kendra asked.

"Yes. Let's get the wagons over."

Two machoke pulled each wagon over, leaving it on the other side. Once the wagons were over, everyone took turns crossing the bridge. Verra and Keith were the last two on the west side of the river. Keith approached the bridge and took a deep breath.

"Would you mind helping me over?" Verra asked. "I wouldn't want to fall into the river."

Keith was confused. They both knew he was the one afraid of rivers, not her. Then he realized what she was trying to do.

"Certainly," he said. He took Verra's hand and took the first step onto the bridge. Though the bridge was steady, his feet wobbled as he navigated the splintered surface, and he had to stop himself from running when they reached the end.

As the wagons rolled again, Keith held himself farther back from the wagons. Verra fell in step with him.

"When I was six, I fell into a river," he said. "It was early spring, and snowmelt from the mountain made the river deep, fast, and cold. The river was full of rocks. I couldn't swim; I couldn't even keep my head above water. Several of the villagers tried to rescue me, but they couldn't reach me, and none of them dared jump into the river."

"What about your parents?" Verra asked.

"They died when I was little."

"Oh. Then what happened?"

"Just when I thought I was going to die, Nolan dove in after me and dragged me out."

"Nolan?"

"He taught me everything about hunting." Keith took the notebook out of his backpack and handed it to her. "He gave me this before he left, and he never returned. That was twenty years ago. He left me his spare rifle too, and his home, and everything in it."

"So he's dead? I'm sorry to hear it."

They walked in silence until sunset. Everyone either slept in the wagons or beneath the stars. Keith settled in a tree, flipping through the book as the moons rose. As he reached the last page, he muttered to himself, "I know you're out there, somewhere."


	7. Chapters 13-14

Chapter 13

The caravan woke at sunrise the next morning, and within an hour, they ate and started moving the wagons. Keith ran ahead of the wagons and shot a few pokemon for the soup pots. When he was collecting his kills, he nearly tumbled into a ravine lined with pale white crystals. He ran back to the caravan, carrying his kills over his shoulder, and entered Kendra's wagon.

"Kendra, we should stop for the day."

"Why?" she asked. "Is something wrong?"

"Nope. In fact, everything is great. You'll see in a moment."

Keith guided the wagons out of the grassy plains and into the denser brush. He and Verra rushed ahead, scouting the trees for navigable paths. It took two hours of hacking down saplings and traversing bumpy terrain to move the wagons half a mile, but the weary caravan was greeted with a clearing in the woods with a large sandstone boulder buried at its center.

"Every time I come here, I want to kiss whoever thought of putting this here."

Verra ran her hand over the smooth sandstone. "It's just a rock."

"It's a lot more than a rock." Keith felt his way along the rock and flipped open a panel on the north side. He punched five buttons on the keypad, and the rock rumbled, lifting a large door on the south side.

"Get the wagons inside. There's an empty room off to the left for them."

Keith guided the wagons inside. The wagons were left in a large room with concrete walls, low ceilings studded with LEDs, and yellow lines painted into the floor. Keith flipped a switch, and the LEDs snapped to life. Everyone helped maneuver the wagons into the marked spaces, and Keith closed the door behind them once everyone was inside.

On the opposite side of the garage was a metal door. Keith pressed the white button next to it, and the door slid open, revealing a long carpeted hallway lined with more metal doors. He walked down to the fourth door on the right and opened it, revealing the bedrooms. The room had thirty beds, each accompanied by a dresser and rings for curtains. One bed, closest to the door, had its curtains draped around it.

Verra walked inside and approached the closed curtain. "What's behind this?" she asked, sliding the curtain aside. Sitting on the bed, underneath the covers, was a desiccated human corpse. Its mummified fingers clung to the sheets, and it stared up at the ceiling. Verra leapt back and stumbled into everyone behind her.

"I call him Fred," Keith said. "I found him like that over twenty years ago."

"What happened to him?" Kendra asked.

"I don't know. Something got him outside, and he came in here to die." Keith closed the curtains. "Seems respectful to let him rest in peace. Anyways, pick a bed and take off your masks. You might as well, since this'll be the last place we can rest easy before Konago."

Everyone picked beds away from Fred, setting their masks and robes onto their dressers. The pokemon tested out the beds and found them just long enough. Keith took a bed opposite of the corpse, and Verra took the one next to him.

Kendra walked over to Keith and asked, "Now what? We're wasting a whole day here, and we have no way of knowing when to leave."

"See those green numbers hanging from the wall?" Keith asked, pointing at a clock at the far end of the bedroom.

"Yes."

"They tell time. We'll leave an hour before morning."

"Alright, but what are we supposed to do here?"

"I'll show you." Keith cupped his hands around his mouth and said, "Everyone follow me, it's time for the grand tour."

Keith walked down the hallway and opened each door, one at a time. Closest to the garage were two bathrooms, one with rows of stalls and sinks, and the other with a dozen showers. Both bathrooms were well-stocked with toilet paper, soaps, fluffy red towels, and running hot water.

The second door on the right led to a dining hall. A long wooden table stretched across the room, surrounded by thirty wooden chairs. LED candlesticks lit the table, and silverware was set in front of each seat. Behind the dining hall was the kitchen, filled with stainless steel appliances, knives, sinks, and cupboards. One large metal door led into the freezer, a second into a large refrigerator, and the third into a pantry. Each food storage shelf was packed with cardboard boxes, jars, cans, and bottles of all sizes and colors.

Keith ignored the door across from the kitchen, telling everyone that the door was jammed, and proceeded to the third set of doors. The left door held four beds surrounded by bulky machines and bundles of tubes. Keith closed that door and opened the one across it, revealing a swimming pool and a hot tub, both kept pristine by pumps humming alongside them.

The door across from the bedrooms held a large entertainment room, with a twenty-foot plasma screen television mounted into the far wall, a dozen couches arranged in concentric rings across the floor, tables and footrests, speakers spread out on the wall, and a small glass closet beneath the television.

"Have a seat everyone. You're about to see something from before the Day of Ruin."

Keith walked up to the glass closet and rifled through the cases on the left side. He skimmed past Princess Mononoke and Howl's Moving Castle, pulling out Spirited Away, removing the disc inside, and inserting it into the Blu-Ray player on the right. He pushed a button on the TV, and it crackled with static as it turned on. The screen brightened, revealing the title screen of the movie. Keith pressed the play button, and the movie began.

Keith sat down on the sofa farthest from the screen, and Verra sat a few feet away from him. Humans and pokemon sat in silence as the movie played. As the family talked in the car, Verra leaned over and asked, "What are they saying?"

Keith walked up to the television and paused the movie. "How many of you don't know what they're saying?"

Every pokemon except Kendra raised their hands. Keith dragged a hand across his face and walked up to Kendra.

"I wish we thought of this sooner. We have to speak with each other in English, or this won't work. Could you quickly teach everyone?"

"Father taught me how," Kendra answered. "It should only take a minute."

Once she had finished sharing the English language, she slumped into the nearest couch and closed her eyes. Keith rewound the movie and played it again. The people and pokemon gasped at each instance of magic, and marveled at each bizarre spirit. Once it was over, he was bombarded with questions.

"Did those creatures exist before the Day of Ruin?" one man asked. Another woman walked up to the television. Keith said, "Don't touch it, it might break. And I don't know if those creatures were real or not. I imagine you're all thirsty. I'll be right back."

Keith left the room and grabbed a crate of soda from the refrigerator. He returned and set the crate onto the floor.

"I have no clue what this stuff is, but it's called Sprecher's Root Beer, and it's good. Take one and twist the top off."

Keith demonstrated how to open the bottle, using his shirt to grip the cap and twist it off. He opened another one for Verra as the others took and opened their own drinks. He took a sip of the sweet bubbly liquid and savored its creamy aftertaste. Everyone around him stared wide-eyed into their bottles between sips.

He put in another movie, this one featuring flying war machines and a man with a deformed head. Afterwards, they raided the kitchens for dried meat, canned fruit, and chocolate for dessert, and then everyone headed off to the beds.

Keith stored his rifle and bag into the dresser before wriggling beneath the sheets. Once he heard the calm, even breathing of sleep around him, Keith left his bed and walked down to the farthest door, at the end of the hallway. He descended a long stone staircase and entered the subterranean chamber. Quartz crystals the size of human limbs jutted from the sandstone, and a shallow pool of water sat at the other end of the room. A few ferns, sustained by artificial lighting, grew around a flat, rocky outcropping at the center of the cave. Keith walked up to the elevated rock, sat atop it, and closed his eyes.

A minute later, he heard Verra descend the staircase and walk up to him.

"It's beautiful. Why didn't you show this to everyone?"

"I think I would've gone crazy. It's bad enough being around that many people, but something about this place amplifies sound. Even your presence is a little painful."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, I don't mind. Well, unless you're planning to stick a knife on me."

Verra chuckled and said, "I think we're beyond that point." She sat down next to him and leaned against his shoulder. "So, what do you hear down here?"

"The heartbeat of the world." Verra smirked, and he said, "I'm serious. The cave pulses with energy, and I can feel every surface in my mind, like everything radiates a blue color I can see through my eyelids. Close your eyes and listen. I'm sure you could hear it."

Verra closed her eyes and waited a few seconds. "I don't hear anything."

"You aren't trying hard enough. Wait a little longer, it takes time to adjust."

Verra fell silent, and they sat together for an hour. After a minute, Verra's hand slid into his, and although he had half a mind to move, he found the warmth of her fingers soothing. As Keith started to wonder if she heard the cave's pulse, Verra's head slid off his shoulder. He carried her up the stairs, tucked her into her bed, and returned to the cave.

Chapter 14

Verra woke up to the sound of Keith banging a large wooden spoon on a pot. She groggily shoved the sheets off of herself and slid out of bed.

"Time to get up everyone! I've already made breakfast, and it's waiting in the kitchen."

Verra rubbed his eyes and looked at Keith. He had a grin that nearly split his face, and his hands raced through cleaning his spotless rifle. As she stood up and put her clothes on, the memory of last night came to mind, hazy and muffled by drowsiness. She felt herself blush when she remembered holding his hand.

Keith led the way to the kitchen, where strips of meat and round brown lumps were set onto each plate.

"Careful," Keith said, "the brown things are hot. I don't know what they're called, but they're filling." Keith sat down at the head of the table and took a big bite out of a vegetable. Verra saw a cloud of steam rise from its fluffy white flesh.

Keith spat out the food and waved his hand over his mouth. "Ah fuck, hot! Should've cut it up first. Well, go on everyone! We have to get moving!"

Everyone sat down and started eating. The bigger pokemon shoved their chairs away and sat on the floor. Verra took a chair on the far side of the room and poked at the food on her plate. She tasted some grease from the meat, and then she shoved a strip into her mouth, savoring the smoky, greasy flavor. After finishing the meat, she sliced open the vegetable and waited for the steam to dissipate. It wasn't flavorful, but her hunger pangs diminished with each bite until she couldn't eat anymore.

She looked up towards Keith, but he had already left, leaving his greasy plate and utensils sitting at the table. She got up and looked for him, and she followed the sound of shuffling boxes to the wagons. Keith was moving around boxes, piling more of the weight directly over the wagon's axles.

"Hello Verra. Got to make sure we're ready to leave. The next good camping spot is a long ways away."

"Uh, are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. My mouth still burns a little, but I can live with it."

"No, I mean you're acting strange."

"I feel great! Always happens when I come here. Nothing to worry about."

Verra looked at her hands and rubbed her fingers together. "Oh, okay. Anyways, I had this weird dream. There was this cave downstairs, and you were in it, and we – uh, never mind."

Keith threw another box into the wagon. "That happened. You fell asleep and I carried you into your bed."

Verra lowered her face and tried to keep her expression flat. "That all happened, with the hands and everything? I must've been exhausted. Excuse me, I think I forgot something inside."

As Verra walked towards the bedrooms, Kendra walked up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder. Kendra guided her into the entertainment room and closed the door.

"Keith is acting strange," she said, "and I need to know why. Did anything unusual happen while we were here?"

Verra thought back to the cave and what Keith said. "Yeah. Follow me."

As they were walking down the steps, Verra gave Kendra an edited version of last night's events. When they reached the bottom, Kendra walked up to the rocky outcropping and sat down.

"He was right here, correct?"

"Yes. He said he could hear the world's heartbeat. Do you know what that means?"

"I'm going to find out."

Verra looked around and shuffled her feet as Kendra sat on the pedestal. After a minute, Verra heard a shrill, quiet screech coming from the crystals.

"Hey, Kendra, I hear something!"

"Quiet. I'm trying to concentrate, and I think I'm almost there."

The screeching grew louder, and Verra saw cracks forming in the crystals. The floor buckled beneath her feet, and the pond splashed water onto the ceiling. A few lights shorted out as cracks formed across their wiring.

"Kendra, what's happening? Kendra!"

She heard footsteps behind her, turned around, and saw Keith walking towards the pedestal. His face was pale, and blood dripped from his ears. He held his rifle with clammy, shaking hands, and his knees sagged with each step. Once he made it to the pedestal, he raised the butt of his rifle and slammed it into the back of Kendra's head. The room fell silent as Kendra toppled over. Keith sank to his knees and lay on his side, rubbing the blood out of his ears.

"What the hell was she doing?" Keith asked.

"Trying to figure out what happened to you last night."

Keith planted the butt of his rifle into the rock and pushed himself onto his feet. "I told you I was fine. Could you carry Kendra up? I think I'll need a minute."

Verra reached the top of the stairs, hauling Kerra over her shoulder, as she heard Keith's footsteps behind her. His ears were clean and his face regained its healthy, slightly tan complexion, as though nothing had happened. Keith scooped Kendra off her shoulder and walked towards the wagons.

Keith ignored questions from the convoy as he loaded Kendra into the empty wagon. Then he told everyone that she'd be fine, and he got everyone to push the wagons out the door. By sunrise, the wagons were out of the thicker forest and back into thicker brush sparsely populated with trees.

Verra walked next to Keith, and together, they trailed behind the convoy. Verra couldn't stop thinking about the previous night and kept her hands clenched together in front of her.

"Listen, Keith, all that stuff last night was, well, awkward. I was just really tired, and I'm sorry for making you feel weird."

"I didn't mind. Did you?"

"Huh? You – you didn't mind? I well, um" she said, forcing out a nervous chuckle. "I guess I didn't mind either."

"Are you sure? You're acting strange, and─" Keith stopped and looked around at the trees.

"What is it?"

Keith put a finger over his lips and continued looking around. "I hear something coming."

"What?"

"Come on!" Keith shouted, grabbing her hand and running forward. Verra stumbled along as they rushed up to the wagons.

"Everyone stop and get out of the wagons! Something's here."

The pokemon put down the wagons, and everyone gathered in a group in front of Keith.

"What is it? Are we in danger?"

Keith said nothing as he stared at the crowd. As Verra thought of something to say, Keith asked, "how many people are in this convoy?"

"Twenty-one," Verra answered. "Why? Is someone missing?"

"No, we have someone extra. Everyone, take your masks off."

"Someone extra?" she heard a pokemon mutter. "What could that mean?"

Once the masks were removed and set onto the grass, Verra saw two people with the same bald, flat-nosed face and green eyes. Keith had everyone form a circle around the two twins and pointed his rifle at the space between them.

"I'm giving you this one chance," Keith said. "Reveal yourself, doppelganger, or I'll assume you're here to kill us."

Both copies looked around at the crowd and claimed their innocence. Keith furrowed his brow and rubbed his forehead.

"Okay, I guess we should ask some questions. First off, who's the smith of Palsitore."

"Dakkel," the man on the right answered.

"And the herbalist?" You on the left this time."

"Lin."

"Alright, someone else ask him something only he and you should know."

After a minute, two people came forward with questions, and both men answered correctly. Keith spent a few moments pinching his temples before drawing his knife and tossing it at their feet.

"Cut off some hairs. A bit of your eyebrow should do."

The man on the left hesitated a few seconds before picking up the knife and slicing off a few hairs. He held them up for the crowd to see, and then he dropped the knife and stepped away from it. The other man stared at the knife.

Keith pointed his rifle at the man on the right. "You next."

He picked up the knife, held his hand above his head, and sliced at the empty air between his hand and his hair. A handful of red and black fur appeared in his hand, and he held it up for the breeze to carry away.

"You win," he said. His body rippled, and the pokemon underneath the illusion was revealed. It was covered in black fur, with red highlights in its long, flowing hair, crimson claws on its hands and feet, and bright green eyes. The pokemon smiled at Keith.

"That was a surprise." The pokemon's voice sounded feminine, richer and deeper than the impersonation. "I didn't expect to be found so quickly."

"I heard you in the trees. So, who are you and why are you here?"

Her smile disappeared. "Not your concern. Can I leave now?"

"Please answer the question."

"Or what, you'll kill me?"

Keith lowered his rifle. "Fine, you can leave."

The mimic started to turn, but then she looked back at Keith. Her frown deepened, and her claws rasped against each other. "I need to ask you something. Are you the one that killed my brother?"

"I don't think so, but I might have done it unknowingly. How did he die?"

The pokemon looked down. "Never mind, you wouldn't have recognized him anyways."

She walked away, and everyone parted around her. As she reached the edge of the convoy, Keith raised and fired his rifle. The bullet passed an inch away from the pokemon's head, breaking a hole through the invisible barrier around her with a purple flash.

"I thought so," Keith said, pulling back the bolt on his rifle. "Your brother attacked the city of Palsitore, and I was the one that killed him."

The pokemon dashed towards him, claws glowing with a dark purple light. Keith fired a second shot, burying a bullet in her left shoulder. She staggered, but she kept her footing enough to score three long, deep gashes on the left side of his face. Clutching her shoulder, the pokemon leapt into the trees and vanished.

Keith held a hand over his wounds as he scanned the trees. Verra ripped some cloth off from the bottom of her robes and held it up to him.

"Here, you should stop the bleeding."

He took the cloth and tied it around the left side of his face. "We better get the wagons moving, and hope we reach Konago before that monster."

This time, Keith took the lead, scouting the terrain ahead and driving everyone to push faster. They reached a decent campsite hours before dark, and he had them press on until an hour after sunset. Verra was too exhausted to keep her eyes open longer than it took to bundle up her robes beneath her head.


	8. Chapters 15-16

Chapter 15

Over the course of a week, Keith drove the convoy as hard as he could through the bumpy forest terrain. Every time he thought of slowing down, the wounds on his face burned, reminding him of the danger to Konago. The forest slowly thinned out into a vast, grassy plain encircled by forests. Their daily progress doubled, yet his wounds urged him to greater speeds.

On the eleventh day, Keith saw four boulders jutting from the field. A quarter-mile ahead was a tall cliff shrouded by tree branches. He called for the wagons to stop and set up a temporary camp in between the rocks. He set up their campfires and seats so everyone would be partially hidden from the cliff-side view.

As Keith leaned against a rock, scanning the cliff with his scope, Verra walked up to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Why did we stop? It isn't even noon yet."

"See that cliff ahead?"

Verra held a hand over her eyes and peered through the trees. "Yes."

"Predators like to ambush from that spot. I think I'll scout it just before the wagons get moving again."

Verra sat down next to him, holding her hands close to her chest. "That's not what you're thinking about, is it?"

Keith stayed silent for a moment before answering, "If she's going to attack us, it'll be here. It may not even be her; who knows how many siblings she has?"

"Aren't you worried?"

Keith shouldered his rifle and sat up on the rock. "If they're waiting to ambush us, that means we can beat them in a straight fight."

A small green light flashing off of Verra's cloak caught his eye. It took Keith a few seconds to realize it was a laser pointer. He felt the wind die, and he lunged towards Verra. As they tumbled over the rock, he heard a shot fired from the cliff. He felt the bullet glance off a metal plate on his shoulder.

"Everyone, get down!" he shouted. "Behind the boulders!"

A second shot echoed from the cliff, and he heard the bullet slam into a rock. Keith propped his rifle against the rock and searched the cliff for the sniper. He heard Kendra teleport next to him.

"What's going on?" she asked. "Who's attacking us?"

"I don't know, but we're in trouble. This sniper's good enough to pick us off if we run, and I can't get a shot at him without losing my scope."

"I could teleport you over there."

"Bad idea. He'd hear us arrive and kill us before I could do anything. I have a better plan. Verra, as soon as I fire, run into the forest. I'll follow you. Kendra, listen for five taps. That's the all clear signal."

There was an ekans basking in the tree branches high above the cliff. Judging by the two shots, Keith guessed that the sniper was directly below and slightly to the right of the ekans. He watched the tree branches, waiting for the right gust of wind to realign the branches. A strong southern wind blew the tree branch over the sniper as Keith took his shot. His bullet slammed through the ekans' skull, and the dead serpent tumbled out of the tree. As soon as it passed out of his line of sight, Keith sprang off the rock and scrambled into the forest. Another shot passed just behind him, splintering a tree's bark as Keith entered the forest.

Verra was leaning against a tree, staying out of the sniper's line of fire. "What next?"

Keith took off the crossbow on his wrist and held it towards her. "Keep your distance and back me up if I need it. Squeeze the handle on the front to fire it."

Keith sprinted up to the cliff, and Verra fastened the crossbow to her arm as she ran. Once he reached the top, he stopped behind a tree and listened for the sound of breathing. He heard trees groan, leaves rustle, and Verra panting next to him, but there was no sign of the sniper. After a minute, Keith walked out from behind the tree and approached the indentation in the grass where the sniper crouched. The dead ekans sat next to the flattened grass. He scoured the grass but didn't find any casings.

"Damn. It would've been nice to know what caliber rounds he was using. I might've even known who it was."

"So, you don't know them?" Verra asked.

"Hard to tell, but I only knew one hunter with a green laser sight, and that was Nolan."

"I thought you said he was dead."

"I never said he was. That wasn't him, though; he never used his sight for anything except signaling. This was the work of an amateur."

Verra ran her fingers over the crossbow. "Should we chase them?"

"There's no way we'd find them now. I'll give the all clear."

Keith set his rifle down and slammed his arm together five times, creating a loud metallic clang that echoed over the plains. As he bent down to pick up his rifle, he saw a glimmer of brass from underneath the ekans corpse. He rolled it over and found a spent cartridge beneath it.

"Well, that was lucky," Keith said, holding up the cartridge. "The sniper missed this one. It's a fifty-six caliber round, a bit bigger than your usual bullet. It also predates the Day of Ruin, and the Empire has the only supply of these bullets. To my knowledge, the only hunter with such a gun was Nolan."

"So it was him?"

Keith shook his head. "If it was, either we'd be dead, or he wouldn't have shot at me. I'm guessing someone else found his gun."

Kendra appeared right behind him, straightened out her cloak, and asked, "Did you find them?"

Keith held up the spent cartridge. "The hunter was already gone. They didn't leave much."

"I see. Should we get moving?"

Keith walked up to the edge of the cliff and looked out over the plains. He watched the windswept grass and found nothing.

"Yes. We should be fine in the plains for a few more days, and by then, we'd be close enough that any commotion would get their attention. But we have a new problem. That hunter works for the Empire, and I'm guessing that they'll be in Konago within three weeks. We have to be gone by then."

Kendra vanished with a flash of purple light. Keith looked around the cliff one last time before walking down towards the wagons.

As they walked, Verra unstrapped the crossbow and handed it to him. "Why would a hunter try to kill us?"

"That's the biggest question. I don't have any answers to that yet."

The group didn't stop until an hour after sundown. Keith set up his own fire inside the forest, just within eyesight of the wagons. Verra sat next to him, stirring a thick meaty stew. They took turns eating with their only spoon. Verra wiped the spoon clean every time she used it, but Keith decided that cleaning wouldn't make a difference. Once they were done, Kendra walked over to their fire.

"Excuse me, Verra, but would you mind giving us some privacy?"

Verra stood up and walked away. Keith listened to her footsteps stop behind a tree twenty feet away.

"She can still hear us."

"No, she can't. You know something you haven't told me. Tell me."

"There's nothing to tell." Keith threw another log onto the fire and moved the empty pot of stew. "Now get some rest, tomorrow will be a long day."

"That pokemon told the hunter about us, didn't she?"

"I see." As Kendra turned to leave, Keith asked, "Is there a way for someone to detect a psychic?"

Kendra stopped, and after a short pause, she said, "Only if they do something immense, like making a Gate. Good night, Keith."

Once Kendra left, Verra returned to the fire. She picked up the pot and left to wash it out. When she returned, she set the pot over the fire to dry and said, "You didn't tell her anything either, did you?"

"Were you listening?"

"No, I can tell when she's angry. Can you at least tell me why you won't tell anyone? Is it because they could be that pokemon?"

"That's not it. She's listening in on us, even now, and I don't want to force her hand."

"What─"

"That's all I can say. Good night."

Keith closed his eyes, but he remained awake, listening to the slow, deep breathing of the pokemon perched in the trees over his camp. Then a thought popped into his mind. Using the moonlight streaming through the trees, he squinted at the bullet casing, looking for fingerprints. He found what he was looking for, a thumbprint with a long jagged scar running across the middle.

So it was you, Nolan, he whispered. He tucked the casing into his pocket and fell asleep.

Chapter 16

The trail to Konago was silent. Over the course of three days, Keith saw only two pidgey and a ratatta as he scoured the trees for enemies. The shape-shifting pokemon followed them, a stealthy presence Keith could hear lurking in the trees a few hundred feet behind the wagons.

Once they were within sight of Konago, the pokemon receded out of his hearing. Keith stopped the wagons and had everyone gather around.

"Remember, everyone, we need to get the saltpeter and leave before the Empire or something else shows up. You six, stay silent and submissive, and make sure the chains stay on. The villagers will panic if they see you without them. Verra and Kendra, remember to only speak English, even if you think you're alone. And everyone, the masks have to stay on at all times. Sleep in them, eat in them, or I may have to kill you. If anyone suspects that you're pokemon, then this is all over. Is that understood?"

Everyone nodded in response, and everyone rolled the wagons up to the village entrance. A few children playing out in the streets spotted the wagons and rushed off to get their parents. Within a minute, the whole village was gathered on the main road to greet the convoy.

The mayor was at the front of the crowd. His hair had thinned out, leaving a shiny bald patch just above his forehead, and his gut had shrunk a few inches, making his shirt billow out and his pants hang loosely at his waist.

"Keith! It's you, isn't it!" The mayor walked up to him and hugged him, slapping him on the back. "God damn, it's good to have you back." The mayor broke off the hug and gestured towards the convoy. "And who are these people?"

"They hail from a city far to the west," Keith answered, "and they wish to trade."

"That's wonderful!" The mayor's smile dropped to a slight frown. "But we don't have anything to offer them, not since the Empire turned their backs on us."

Keith pointed at the mountain. "They need gunpowder."

"For what? There aren't wars out west, are there?"

"Of a sort." Keith removed his crossbow and glove, pulled back his plated sleeve, and held his scarred, emaciated arm up to the crowd. He heard a collection of gasps and whispering.

"They have problems with ferocious pokemon. I nearly lost my arm, and another person gave their life to stop a rampaging charizard. They were running low on saltpeter when we left, and for all we know, they may have already run out."

"So, you want to reopen the saltpeter mines?" The mayor pointed at the pokemon and asked, "Will they be helping?"

"That's why we brought them. They're tame, so there's nothing to worry about. If you would allow it, we should start today."

"I can understand the rush, but the Empire wouldn't be too happy to learn that we made a deal behind their backs."

"Come on, Mayor, it'd hardly be our fault that the Empire didn't know," Hanek called out, "since they're the ones that turned their backs on us in the first place!"

The crowd rumbled with grievances towards the Empire and enthusiasm for a new trading partner. The mayor rubbed his bald spot and said, "I suppose we can contact them after we make the deal. But first, we have a deal to make. I suppose we better take this into my home."

Keith looked at Kendra and subtly flicked his wrist. Kendra stepped forward and walked alongside the mayor, the mayor's wife walked on the mayor's other side, and Keith followed after them, loosely holding his rifle in his hands. At the mayor's house, his wife opened the door for everyone.

The mayor's house was a two-story lumber building, with waxed wooden floors and a small collection of golden trinkets adorning the oak counters, table, and shelves. The kitchen had a hand-pump at the sink and a stout iron stove.

"Jessie, dear, could you warm some tea for our guests?" As his wife pumped out water and set it on the stove to steep, the mayor gestured toward the seats at the table. The mayor took the seat at the head of the table, and after a moment, Kendra took the opposite side. Keith leaned against a corner, holding the trigger of his rifle in his hands and pointing the barrel towards the floor.

The mayor leaned over the table and held out his hand. "I'm James, mayor of this town, and over there is Jessabelle, my wife."

Kendra kept her hands at her side. "I'm afraid the teachings of the Great Serpent Arkus do not permit such contact."

The mayor withdrew his hand and said, "Is that so? Those teachings also have you wear those masks, don't they?"

"Yes. Ancient legends speak of shape-shifters that can steal the form of anyone they see or feel. The tradition was started to ward them off."

"Why do your people worship Arkus? I've never heard of such a legend."

Kendra paused a few seconds before answering, "Long ago, our people were attacked by a powerful, evil stone creature that towered over buildings and knocked over trees. The Great Serpent defended our ancestors with its holy fire and lightning, casting the fiend into the dark pit from whence it came. It also revealed the False Ones, banishing them with its powers. The Holy One then imparted them with the knowledge needed to thwart what darkness remained."

Keith kept his expression calm, but he could feel his blood boiling beneath his skin. The moment he told the group about his nickname came to mind as a drop of sweat trickled down his hand. His mouth itched with the urge to speak out, but he forced himself to stay silent.

The mayor clapped his hands together as Jessie set cups of tea onto the table. "Fantastic! I'd love to hear more, but we shouldn't delay any longer. Honey, could you get a pen and parchment from upstairs?"

Jessie handed Keith a cup and walked up the steps. Keith took a sip and was disappointed to find that even the mayor's supply of tea had dwindled down to hot water and mint. He drank the whole cup in one long swallow.

"I apologize, but we ran out of tea leaves months ago. So, what have you brought us?"

"Two wagons of metal goods, including ten rifles and bullets, and a wagon of pelts," Keith replied. "We have six wagons total, four for carrying goods."

The mayor smiled. "Rifles, you say? We might finally have some luck hunting!"

The conversation continued back and forth, clarifying how much the village has to help with the mining, what food and lodgings they have to supply, where and how to refine the saltpeter, and future mining rights. Once terms were agreed upon, the mayor wrote down each point in a detailed list, and then signed his name at the bottom. Kendra mentally consulted Keith before writing her own name below.

James presented his hand again. "And with that, the deal's struck!" He looked down at his hand and quickly withdrew it. "Oops! I'll have to remember that in the future. I know! Let's celebrate with a feast, that is, if that is permissible with your religion?"

Plans were confirmed for a feast the next day, and Keith volunteered himself and the convoy's four riflemen for a tauros hunt. The mayor suggested sending villagers along with their new rifles, but Keith warned him that large numbers would scare the tauros off.

When Keith left the mayor's house, he was greeted by the mayor's daughter, Maria. She nudged her black hair out of her eyes and shuffled her feet.

"Um, hi Keith. It's good to have you back. Did you, um, miss me?"

"I'm sorry, but now's not a good time to talk. I have hunting to do." Keith strode past her, leaving her standing at the door of her house. He strode straight for the wagons and rounded up the four riflemen. As he was about to leave, he saw Kendra walking towards him. She grabbed his hand and guided him into a wagon.

Once they were alone, Keith asked, "What the hell were you thinking, using me to make up a god?"

"Father told me the best lies had a hint of truth to them."

"I hope you at least had the good sense to relay that information to everyone. If people give different accounts of your fake religion, then it's over."

"I already covered that. Everything is going exactly as we planned. Why are you on edge? You had your hand on your gun the whole time we were arranging the deal."

"One mistake and you're all dead." Keith leapt out of the wagon and waved over the four riflemen. He first took a detour towards the mountain, where the six pokemon, accompanied by four convoy members, were clearing out the tunnels and carrying out boxes of milky white powder.

"Is everything alright here?" Keith asked.

"Yeah," one of the miners answered. "There's loads of saltpeter here. We should have the wagons loaded in five days at most."

Keith walked into the mines and listened carefully for rustling wings before leaving the mountain and walking to all three tauros gathering spots. He found the tauros in a field north of the village and took a careful count of their numbers. There were sixty-two; a year without being hunted had made their numbers swell.

He returned to the village, left the riflemen at the wagons, and returned to his hut. He found Verra waiting outside, leaning against a tree. He opened the door and invited her inside. Verra looked around the room, touching the pelts on the walls and floor.

"You killed all of these?"

Keith threw logs and tinder into the fireplace and lit them with a touch of spare gunpowder. Within seconds, the logs, desiccated from a year of dry weather, filled the room with heat. "Most. The pelt on the floor was Nolan's, along with a few pidgeot feathers."

Verra walked along the wall and reached the leaf hanging from a nail. She took her mask off and leaned towards it. "Is this?"

"That is. Be careful, it's very fragile."

Verra caressed the leaf and held it up in her hand. A gust blew the leaf up into the air, and Verra lunged at the leaf, crunching it in her grasp. She opened her hand, and her tears fell onto the brittle pieces of her mother's headleaf.

"I'm such a fool."

"It couldn't be helped," Keith said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "If you hadn't tried to catch it, it would've caught fire on the stove."

"Not that. I've always tried so hard to remember mom, to avenge her death and let her rest in peace. Yet, all this time, all I've done has destroyed her memory." She choked back a sob and rubbed the tears from her eyes. "I heard nana talking to you. She told you she couldn't remember my mother. Every time she tried, all she could only see my face. Just my face."

Keith could feel her trembling beneath his arm. He brought his hand up to the back of her head and gently guided her head onto his shoulder. She wrapped her arms around him and sobbed into his shoulder until the fire in the stove died down to coals. The soot from the fire made Keith's nose itch, but he held back his sneeze. He was also sweating underneath his cloak. He let his sweat trickle down his back and arms, making his arms feel hot and clammy.

Verra stood up and walked over to the fire. She opened her hand and blew the leaf fragments into the fire. They shriveled and glowed as they touched the coals.

"It's what she would've wanted," she said as she watched her mother's headleaf turn to ash. She picked up her mask and stood in front of Keith, staring towards the floor and rubbing the tears off her face. Then she grabbed his cloak, pulled him forward, and kissed him on the cheek before running out of his hut.

His skin felt the kiss even after she had left. His mind stopped and the world around him fell silent. His eyes stung from the smoke in the air, and his heart raced. His fingers tingled and shook as he caressed his cheek. His legs felt too numb for him to stand, so he slowly lowered himself to the floor.

His reverie was interrupted when someone opened the door and tapped him on the shoulder. "Um, are you alright Keith?" the masked man asked. "I said an envoy from the Empire is here, did you hear me?"

"The Empire?" Keith pulled himself up, looked down at the charizard pelt and shook his head. "Fuck."


	9. Chapters 17-18

Chapter 17

Keith sprinted towards the town center, but the envoy was already inside the mayor's house with Kendra and the mayor. Ten uniformed soldiers carrying rifles stood guard outside the door. Each man wore a red coat, bright blue pants, a tall plumed hat, and black leather boots, and their rifles had bayonets at the ends.

He knew one of those ten was the pokemon. Her presence felt like needle pricks in his ears. Though he strained his hearing, he couldn't tell which one was her. He walked towards the door, and four guards trained their rifles on him.

Keith raised his hands and said, "Hey, take it easy. I just want to talk."

"Turn around and go. They are not to be disturbed."

Keith forced himself to smile. "Aren't you bored? I just want to ask how the hunting was on the way here. Anything big?"

"No, we didn't see anything," one soldier answered.

"Too bad. The hunting was great out west. There was this one huge pokemon I hunted. Now that was a hunt!" He scanned the eyes of the soldiers and found only disinterested stares. "It was this huge pokemon that could block bullets with some kind of purple shield. We had to use a cannon to bring it down. But man, it was something else. We shot it right in the gut, and its insides spattered all over the place! The mess was unbelievable. It took days to clear out the stench, and now and then, you'll find bits of its entrails on a roof or in a gutter."

The soldiers still stared at him with blank expressions, but he could hear one breathing a bit harder. He looked to his right and saw a soldier's hands bleached from gripping his rifle. His mouth was parted a millimeter, and his chest stayed deceptively still despite the heavy breathing.

Keith walked up to the soldier and said, "Doesn't that sound like a blast?" Keith gave him a hearty slap on the shoulder, and he winced in pain. "Oh, I'm sorry, are you injured?"

"He slipped in a river and banged up his shoulder," another soldier answered.

Keith held up his blood-stained hand and turned to the fake soldier. "Must've been a sharp rock. I hope you recover swiftly."

As Keith walked away, he unslung his rifle and held it in his hands. He contemplated turning around and shooting the pokemon, but he knew he'd be shot dead. Instead, he used the last light of the day to return to his hut. He threw some logs onto the coals, and just after he got a fire going, a knock came from his door. Kendra walked into his hut and took a seat on the floor.

"Good news. We arranged new terms with the Empire, identical to the old ones." She took off her mask and smoothed out her hair. "It took quite a while, though. The envoy had many questions about the city. I think you overreacted."

Keith held out his hand and showed her the blood on his fingers. Kendra stared at the blood for a moment before gasping.

"Is that her blood?"

"Don't be so quick to trust them. They're waiting for a better moment to strike."

Another knock came from his door, this one shaking the wall around the door. Kendra put on her mask, stood up and waited behind Keith as he opened the door. The person at the door also had on a mask, this one a blank white circle carved of wood. He had an olive-colored cloak and a sniper slung over his shoulder. He stood aside and let Kendra pass him. The man asked with a gravelly, hoarse voice if he could enter, and Keith gestured towards his stove.

Keith sat down next to the sniper and said, "That's a nice rifle you've got there. .56 caliber, long scope, with a green laser sight. There's only one gun I know of with those specs."

"Just say what you're going to say, and stop wasting our time."

"I couldn't agree more. After all, you're seventy years old now, aren't you? I can't imagine you having much time to spare."

The hunter remained silent as Keith pulled the casing from his pocket. "You have a distinctive thumbprint, Nolan."

Nolan stood up and walked towards the door. "I don't know what you're talking about. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to return─"

"Why is the Empire working with those pokemon?"

Nolan stopped in the doorway, turned around, and walked up to Keith. He whispered in his ear, "If you want to live to be as old as I am, get as far away from this as possible. I don't want to kill you, but I will if I'm ordered to."

After Nolan left, Keith set a cloth down on the floor and disassembled his rifle. He cleaned every piece three times, oiled them, polished the scope, and checked the parts for cracks. He reassembled the rifle and gave his pistol a similar treatment. The pistol's parts were caked with coagulated oil, and the inside of the barrel had the faintest hint of rust at the muzzle. Goops of oil dripped off the pistol as he cleaned the parts, staining his cloth a filthy charcoal gray. He cleaned the crossbow next, oiling the joints and the bowstring, then he sharpened his knife until the edge was thin enough to split a hair.

That night, Keith slept alone, with his rifle in his hands.

The following morning started with a tauros hunt. With himself and eight riflemen, they quickly took down enough tauros for the feast. With the village's and the convoy's wagons, the tauros were brought back in a single trip, butchered in the town square, and parceled out.

Keith took a thigh cut, bought a few potatoes, and roasted them with thyme and basil in his stove. Once it was done, he put a cover over his pot and brought it to the communal hall. He saw Verra bring in a bowl of stew with spicy red berries bobbing in the broth.

Keith walked up to the mayor and said, "A friend of mine from Palsitore makes spicy food, and I'm worried that it might end up ruining someone's meal. Would you mind giving it to me instead?"

James rubbed his forehead. "Yes, that would be a problem, but you deserve better than that. What if I take it instead?"

"I don't think that's a good idea."

The mayor straightened his shirt and straightened his back. "Well, I've made my mind. Have a seat over there, the feast will begin shortly."

The mayor had arranged the seating so the Empire's envoy and his soldiers were on one end, and the convoy on the other, with the villagers wedged in between. The mayor gave Keith a seat next to him at the center of the table, across from Maria, and right in front of the door. To his right, Verra sat next to Kendra, and to his left, Nolan was speaking with the envoy.

Everyone closed their eyes as the mayor shuffled the dishes. He could smell Verra's stew move past him to the mayor's spot, while a fragrant dish settled underneath his nose. The mayor clapped his hands, and Keith opened his eyes. In a cast iron dish, Keith had steamed carrots and succulent sliced beef sitting in thin, creamy gravy. Keith spotted basil leaves floating in the gravy, and a closer smell hinted at mint and wine.

The mayor scooped up a spoonful of Verra's stew, picking up a strip of meat and a berry. As he swallowed, the mayor's face reddened and he gripped the table so hard his hands trembled.

"I, uh, phew! Let's eat!"

Keith tucked into his dish. Although Maria's cooking tasted excellent as ever, he found himself craving the heat of cheri berries. He ate quickly, and when the mayor wasn't looking, Keith snuck a few berries from his soup.

The mayor finished long after everyone else, sputtering and gasping with every spoonful of soup. While he waited, Keith craned his head towards each side of the table. Both Kendra and the envoy had Jessabelle's cooking, courtesy of the mayor. Kendra's attention was fixed on her food, while the envoy spent most of the meal staring across the table. Though the Palsitorians ate through holes in their mask, no one visibly spilled any food.

Once the mayor was finished, he gave a hasty speech praising the prospects of a long and fruitful trade venture before calling for the beer. James made a quick toast, and then he drained half the mug in one swallow.

Keith waited for a villager to spill their beer across the table before slinking out of the hall. He returned to his hut and closed the door. He was sitting down on his hammock, nursing his aching temples, when the door opened. Verra took off her mask and sat down next to him.

"Why'd you leave?"

"I can't stand all the noise."

Verra leaned against him and whispered in his ear. "I get it. You just wanted it to be the two of us." She took off her robe and threw it towards the wall. "There's room for two in your hammock, right?"

Keith froze as Verra slipped his cloak off and threw it aside. Then he saw her headleaf rubbing against the ceiling.

"Don't you want some wine first? You know, to get us, uh, started?" He could feel the blood rushing into his face.

Verra chuckled as she stood up. "You brought a bottle? I like the way you think."

Keith rummaged through his pack and brought out Lin's bottle. He poured out the wine into two cups and handed one to Verra. He pressed his cup against his lips as Verra drained hers. Within two seconds, Verra's eyes rolled back and she collapsed onto the floor.

Keith peered into the cup and asked himself, "What the heck did she put in that?" He picked up her cloak, bundled her up in it, and placed her on his hammock. As he threw more wood onto the fire, he was hit by a sudden dizzy spell. His eyelids drooped, he dropped his cup, and his legs felt numb. He licked his lips and tasted the wine on them.

"Mmh, not now." He staggered over to Verra's mask, placed it over her head, and collapsed on the floor. He took fast, deep breaths, but his vision faded to black and he passed out. The last thing he heard was the sound of someone gasping.

Maria dropped the package of sweets she was carrying when Keith hit the floor. She wiped the tears from her eyes and quietly opened the door.

Wine was spilled on the pelt near Keith's hand. She dabbed some onto her fingers and smelled it. Her fingers paused an inch away from her lips, and she told herself not to taste.

Maria turned to leave, but she stopped halfway to the door. She stared at the mask, and she rubbed her fingers. She stepped over Keith, placed her hands on the mask, and slowly pulled it off. She had to squint to make out Verra's green skin and streamlined face, and when she did, she staggered back, tripping over Keith's back. She threw her left hand back behind her and burned her hand on the stove. She yanked her hand away, fell to the floor, and bit her other hand to stifle her screams. She ran out of the hut, slammed the door, and cried all the way home.

Chapter 18

Keith woke just before dawn. His temples throbbed with each heartbeat, and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He pushed himself onto his feet, looked around the hut, and saw a handprint in the soot on his stove. He held his hand over it and saw the handprint was too small to be his.

He searched in and around the house, and found a box of pastries lying next to his door. They were drizzled with Maria's mint and honey sauce and wrapped with a knot she liked to use.

Keith's first thought was to warn the convoy and have them flee, but then he realized that the villagers didn't know yet, or they'd already be dead. He cleaned the stove and burned the pastry box, mixing the ashes in with the charcoal until only a black sooty mess remained.

He grabbed some smoked jerky for breakfast, had Kendra move Verra to the wagons, and went out hunting. When he came back, carrying a bag of pidgey over his shoulder, he saw Nolan and Maria talking next to a tree. He hid out of their sight and listened in.

"Don't play games, girl," Nolan rasped. "I know you were in there last night. You left just after them."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I dropped off a box at his door and went home. Why won't you leave me alone?"

Keith snapped branches and rustled leaves as he walked up to them. Marie flinched, and Nolan turned to face him.

"Leave her alone. She wasn't at my place last night, so you're bothering her for nothing." Keith stretched out his crossbow and cocked it, letting it dangle at his side. Nolan left, and Keith led Maria away by her hand.

"Where are you taking me?"

Keith tapped her wrist twice and kept walking. "Your hand's burned. I've got some medicine from the west that works very well."

Her eyes widened and she walked without another word. Once they were inside, he gestured to the hammock and took out a clay jar of orange paste. As he made small-talk about the village, he smeared the paste all over her burned hand and scrawled a message onto her hand, one letter at a time, wiping her hand after each finished word.

 _I cleaned the fireplace._

"Can I see your hands? You were away for such a long time, I wonder what stories your hands have to tell." She asked him why with her hands.

 _Because it's best for everyone._

Someone knocked on the door. Keith opened it and was told that Verra was awake.

"Sorry, I have to go," Keith said, putting away the paste. He ran out of his hut and slammed the door behind him.

Maria sat in the hammock, looking at the paste on her hand, closing her eyes at the tears she struggled to keep inside.

Nolan walked up to the envoy's building and walked inside, locking the door behind him. Two black-haired pokemon sat at a small wooden table, and he took the third seat.

"I couldn't get anything out of her," he said.

The pokemon on his left stretched his arms and leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table and pressing his fingertips against his brow.

"Hmm. Getting the villagers to stumble on the truth is harder than I previously thought. We may have to give up the Snake altogether. A pity, father won't be pleased."

"I have an idea," the second pokemon said.

"You've already failed once, sister," he said. "Which is why I know you'll succeed this time. You can't afford to make another mistake."

She transformed into a soldier and left the room. The remaining pokemon leaned back, placed his legs on the table, and asked Nolan, "What do you suppose she'll try?"

"She thinks subtlety is her strength. Poison, perhaps?"

The pokemon sighed and placed a hand over his eyes. "I hope she thought this one through. Shall we get ready?" His hair retracted into his body, and his skin warped until he took on the appearance of the envoy. Clothes grew out of his skin, and his claws reshaped themselves into flatter, duller fingernails.

As he walked by, the envoy said, "Don't kill Keith quite yet. Father wants to meet him, and you know what will happen if he is disappointed. And if my sister screws up, shoot her."

Maria returned to her room to find a black-haired woman sitting on her bed. There was a small wooden box sitting in the woman's lap.

"Who are you?"

"I'm someone that doesn't like to see pretty girls like you cry. You love him so much, but he doesn't seem to love you at all."

"Of course he loves me! We're going to get married someday, my father said so!"

"If he loves you, then why did he run for his other lady friend, leaving you alone?"

"But he, but that's not possible!"

The woman stood up and said, "Face it! He loves her, not you. He'll spend the rest of his life in the arms of a pokemon while you live alone and miserable. Is that what you want for him? Do you think he'd be happy that, living with someone he could never have children with?"

Maria took in a deep breath and smelled a sweet fragrance, like summer berries. The fog clouding her mind cleared, and she knew she could trust this woman.

"What do I have to do?"

The woman smiled and handed her the box. "Use this, and you shall have the man you love."

Verra decided not to wait for Keith. Instead, she crawled out of the wagon, cradled her aching head for a few minutes, then she wandered down the path to Keith's hut. She got lost along the way, taking a tumble down a hill, but she eventually found the village. She walked up to the nearest person and asked them for directions.

"Oh, Keith's hut?" the woman asked. She brushed her long, black hair out of her face and answered, "It's that way. And here, you can have these."

She handed Verra a small wooden box. Verra opened it and found pastries inside. "Thank you, I'll have some later," she replied. She walked down the narrow, rocky path to Keith's hut, knocked on the door, and walked inside. She set the box down on the floor and looked around. She called his name a few times before leaving.

The box was left on the floor.

When Keith arrived at the convoy's wagons, Kendra told him that Verra had left to meet him. He walked back the way he came and walked inside his hut. He called out for Verra and saw the box sitting on the floor.

"Huh. Did Maria leave this?" He opened it up and popped one in his mouth. "Not as good as her usual, maybe it's her hand. I should go thank her."

He took the box with him into the village. At the mayor's house, he was greeted by Jessie. She gave him a tight hug and sat him down at the table.

"I was hoping we'd get the chance to talk. Tell me, what is Palistore like?" She poured him a cup of tea and sat down at the other end of the table.

Keith reached for his cup, but his hand wouldn't close around it. His arm jerked around, and he spilled the tea all over the table.

"Goodness! Is something wrong? You look so pale!"

Keith opened his mouth to speak, but only a gurgle came from his throat. He reached up with his left hand to clutch at his throat and tried to stand, but his legs caved and he fell to the floor. He could taste blood on his lips and he saw it pooling on the floor in front of him. He knew Jessie was shouting, but he couldn't hear her voice. His vision faded, and before he passed out, he saw Maria throw himself over his chest, crying into his shoulder.

The envoy tugged at his gloves as he watched the villagers gather around the mayor's house, sprinting around, bringing back herbs and buckets of water.

"Damn. I never imagined she would fail with such disgrace."

"Are you going to help him?" Nolan asked.

"I told Kendra. She should be here in time to save him." The envoy sighed into his glove and said, "I suppose it isn't a total loss. The Empire will have its excuse to mobilize, and father's plans shall proceed unhindered. I hope he will be lenient about the loss of another one of his children."

The envoy's sister, disguised as a soldier, ran up to his side and said, "That insolent little bitch! She screwed up my plan!"

"No, sister, she did exactly what you told her to do. You're the one that has failed here. You've given me no choice but to play along with Keith's next move. Ah, there she goes."

A masked figure ran inside the house, and a purple light shone from the windows. A minute later, Keith walked out, propped up by the unmasked Kendra and the mayor.

"And what is his next move going to be?"

The envoy stuck a small, one-inch blade in her back and whispered in her ear, "Killing you, of course. Just stay right there, and try not to fail your family again."

The envoy waited with Nolan behind a tree until the shot was fired, then the envoy returned to his men and ordered them to pack their bags. Once they were ready, the envoy ordered them to start marching without him. He walked into the trees, morphed back into his true form, and sprinted deeper into the forest. At a rocky ravine, he turned east and ran until he came upon an old, dead tree. Keith was leaning against it, cleaning the barrel of his rifle.

"Hello Keith. It's nice to meet you in person. My name is Levin, twelfth child of my family. As the Empire's envoy, I must apologize for my sister's rash and destructive behavior." Levin held out his hand, and after a moment of hesitation, Keith shook his hand.

"Why did you let me kill her?"

"My father wants to meet you. I can't let you die before that happens. How are they taking it, by the way?"

"I told them you were deceived by your sister, and that the Empire had nothing to do with the attempt on my life."

"Good. I'll return the favor. You have two months before the Empire can mobilize its army. Your best hope is to pin them down in the valley four miles east of here."

Levin turned to leave and said, "You better not disappoint my father."


	10. Chapters 19-20

Chapter 19

Keith watched as the pokemon loaded the last barrel of saltpeter onto the wagon. The mayor and a handful of villagers came to commemorate the conclusion of the initial trade agreement, and they silently watched as the last wagon rolled towards the village.

Hanek walked up to Keith and asked him, "Are you planning to leave?"

"They'll need protection on the way back."

"Then stop by my shop first. You could use some new bullets, and I have a favor to ask."

Keith followed Hanek back to his store. The walls were bare, and the chalk figures on the wall were faded.

"I sold it all to get us through the winter. Even then, it wasn't enough. The Empire refused to lend us aid, so to survive, most of the elderly poisoned themselves. I thought about joining them, but I still had to teach Marco how to run the store. Then, ironically enough, this happened." He pulled back his sleeve and unwrapped the bandages around his arm. Underneath, the flesh was eaten away down to bones and ligaments. Two of his fingers were missing, and his ulna was cracked down the middle.

"How long?"

"I caught it two weeks ago," Hanek said as he threw his bandages into the fire. "I'd given up hope of seeing you again, only for you to arrive a few days before I planned to commit suicide. It's been painful, but I had to make sure we spent plenty of time together before I died."

"You want me to kill you."

"Yes, but not quite yet. I have some advice for you. Do you remember my wife at all?"

Keith nodded, and Hanek said, "Ever since I was a young man, she smiled at me and gave me presents, but I never thought anything of it. It went on like that for twenty years, until the day she got fed up with waiting and planted a kiss on my lips. We got married within the week, and two winters later, she died of pneumonia."

Hanek rummaged around his storage and took out four boxes of bullets. He slid them across the counter and said, "Just kiss the damn girl already, or you'll regret it for the rest of your life."

Keith took the boxes and asked, "Which one?"

Hanek snorted and laughed. A fingerbone fell onto the counter as he wiped the tears from his eyes.

"You really are clueless! It's Maria, you idiot! Just go and kiss her already, you'll know what I mean."

"Is that everything?"

Hanek opened a drawer, took out a skarmory feather, and picked at his teeth. "It is."

Keith drew his pistol and aimed it at his head. "Goodbye, old friend."

"Help Marco out with the store, will you? And kiss Maria."

Keith pulled the trigger, and Hanek fell to the floor with a hole in his head. Two villagers ran into the store and gasped when they saw the body.

Keith reloaded his pistol and put it back in his jacket. "He had the Devouring Plague."

As the village scrambled to prepare a funeral, Keith walked to the mayor's house, let himself in, and walked upstairs to Maria's bedroom. She flinched and dropped her sewing when he opened her door.

"Oh, Keith. I didn't hear you come in. I was hoping to finish this before you left, but it'll have to wait until next time."

"Maria, there's something that I need to do before I leave."

"Oh no, you don't have to apologize! I should be the one apologizing. I don't know what came over me, but like you said, it was probably something that pokemon did."

"No, it's not that." As Keith paused, he thought back to the kiss Verra gave him, and how it made his skin feel electrified. He tried to clear that moment from his mind, but his cheek continued to tingle.

Maria placed a hand on his arm. "Is something the matter?"

Keith stood up. "No, it's fine, I should start packing."

Maria's smile drooped, and her eyes fell to the floor. "I see. Take care, Keith."

Keith walked back to his hut, pausing a moment to watch Hanek's body get carried out of his store. Once Hanek was brought into the communal hall, Keith continued down the road to his hut. Verra was inside, staring at the feathers hanging from the wall.

"Oh, hey. Kendra told me to tell you we're leaving in half an hour. We've got ten minutes left."

Keith walked up to her, leaving a slim gap between them. "Verra, I just got some advice from an old friend of mine. I think it's worth trying."

"What did he tell you to do?"

"This." Keith leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. Verra backed off, and then she wrapped her arms around him and returned the kiss. They stood there for five minutes until Keith heard someone walking up the path. He tapped Verra on the shoulder, and they stopped kissing just before the knock came at the door.

"We'll be leaving any minute," the voice said.

"Okay, I'm almost done packing."

Keith waited for the footsteps to fade away before kissing Verra again, this time for a few seconds. Then he grabbed his pack and walked to the wagons with her.

"What now?" Verra asked as they walked. "What do we do now that we, you know, love each other?"

"I have an idea. There's someone who owes me a favor, someone who can make this situation work for both of us."

"Who?"

Keith stayed silent as they approached the wagons. He walked up to Kendra and asked if everyone was ready. She nodded and asked if he said goodbye.

"Why say goodbye? I have every intention of returning. Also, I have a request. There's a place that I need to visit. Could you take me there?"

"I've only just recovered from healing you, but I could manage. Where is it?"

"In the Old Forest."

Kendra frowned. "Let me see." Keith nodded, and she placed her hands over his temples. Keith saw memories from the previous year move in reverse like a rewound disk. Kendra stopped at his later days in the Old Forest and wound her way through his battles until she reached the pool.

"Father was right. You met my aunt Lorende."

"I didn't know who she was."

"But you knew what she would do to you. Why?"

Keith closed his eyes and debated what to say. Then he muttered, "I'm in love with Verra. That's why."

Kendra hid her face and turned around. A minute later, she placed a hand on his shoulder, and they both appeared in the Old Forest, next to the Nexus tree.

"I hope you won't regret this."

Keith gave her a smile and said, "Thanks Kendra. Let's go visit your aunt." He knocked on the tree trunk and waited for a minute, but nothing happened.

"Hey, Lorende! Are you there? I've returned to reclaim my favor."

"She's gone," Kendra said as she touched the tree.

Keith pounded his fists against the tree. "Damn! And I was hoping this would be easy."

"You can't have had much time to think this over. Why did you make a rash decision like this? You know she won't change you back."

"Because Hanek was right. I suddenly realized I was missing something, and now, I want it more than anything else."

"Well, she's gone. You'll have to find a different way. It will be harder, but I think it would be wiser to love her as you are than love her as someone else. Let's go back."

When they came back, the wagons were already a hundred feet down the road. Kendra sprinted to catch up with them while Keith remained in the rear, keeping an ear out for spies.

After an hour, Verra joined him at the rear and asked, "So, what did you have planned?"

"It's not important now. I've decided we'll make it work the way we are."

He gave her a quick peck on the cheek and kept walking.

Chapter 20

Kendra teleported back home to start war preparations, leaving Keith in charge of the convoy. Despite the heavy burdens the wagons carried, they traversed the cleared path to the Gate in two weeks, and they were greeted with an escort of two hundred soldiers. Keith didn't recognize half of them.

Kendra walked up to Keith and said, "You're just in time. The Council meeting is about to begin. But first, you'll have to get changed."

Kendra steered him towards her house. In her bedroom, a robe was hanging from a wooden rack. The robe was made of smooth purple cloth and inlaid with chainmail along the chest and back. The sleeves had gold trim sewed into the hems, and a golden serpent was sewn over the heart.

Keith picked up the robes, and his arms trembled from how heavy they were. "What is this for? I thought we were just going to a Council meeting."

"The Council has grown since I returned," Kendra said. "I've spread news of the Empire across the land, and many Clan leaders have joined us. You'll have to present yourself before them, so I had more formal attire prepared."

"Formal?" he asked, inspecting the chainmail. "This robe's heavy enough to take to war."

"That's part of the idea. You have to lead our forces. The Council is already in unanimous agreement, but you'll still need to address them and the soldiers."

"They decided without seeing me?"

"I showed them memories of the battle. That quickly settled the dispute."

He heaved the cloak over himself and felt the weight settle on his shoulders. Once he also donned a matching pair of gloves, engraved with snakes on each hand, a pair of crimson leather boots, and his rifle, he plodded up the steps to Ty'mir's house. Sweat was running down his neck and armpits as he addressed the fifty humans and pokemon gathered in a large semicircle.

Among the crowd, Keith noted a charizard half again the average size and covered with facial scars, a giant blue turtle with water cannons jutting from its shell, a bulkier Machoke with two extra arms, a spotted horse-like pokemon with a different head at each end, and a floating metallic pokemon with two clawed arms and red eyes.

Kendra walked towards the semicircle and gestured at Keith. "Members of the United Council, I give you Keith the Golden Serpent, general of our mutual defenses."

Keith stepped forward, and the Council silently waited. Keith stared at them, waiting for one of them to speak. The scarred charizard was the first to break the silence. He whipped his tail behind him, making the members sitting next to him scatter.

"Well, aren't you going to say something?"

"There's nothing to say." He pulled back the robe's right sleeve and exposed his arm. "You all know who I am and how far I'm willing to go."

The metal monolith floated forward, and a monotone, metallic voice echoed from inside of it. "Perhaps a better question would be why do you fight for us? You're from the Human Empire, and your occupation indicates you sympathize with their beliefs."

"You are correct. If it was only humans you were fighting, I wouldn't help you." The Council members glanced at each other as Keith spoke. "However, the Empire isn't what it appears to be. Pokemon with the ability to change their appearance have infiltrated the Empire, swaying it to their will. Kendra, please share those memories with the Council."

After the shared flashback, the Council members anxiously looked around the room. The charizard stood up and asked, "How do we know they're not here. How do we know you're not one of them?"

"I killed two of them. They also presume I can pick them out of a crowd. They wouldn't risk trying to assassinate me or entering this room. All we can do is fight the Empire and remove all risks of infiltration. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an army to train."

As he left, he stopped next to Kendra and whispered, "Keith the Golden Serpent, what the hell?" Kendra shrugged her shoulders.

Keith followed his eyes and ears to the mass of tents gathered outside the city. One of his men, Dalton, ran up to him as he entered the camps.

"Hey Keith! We've been waiting. The men will be assembled at the center of the camp in half an hour. In the meantime, I'll take you to your tent."

He spotted his tent a few hundred feet away. It wasn't any bigger than the other tents, but it had red cloth embroidered with golden serpents, and all the other tents gave it a thirty foot wide clearing. Dalton opened the tent flap, and Keith walked inside. The only furniture inside was a bed, a table, and two chairs.

"I'll have your belongings brought here tonight. Is there anything I could get you?"

Keith declined, and Dalton left the tent. Over the course of half an hour, Keith heard the noise outside grow. Keith covered his ears in a vain attempt to assuage his headache.

Dalton walked into the tent and told him everything was ready. Keith followed him out and stood before a sea of pokemon and humans. Even though they didn't speak a word, their breathing and shuffling feet made Keith feel nauseous.

"Everyone! I am not fit to be your general. Everything I know about commanding troops I learned from watching the Empire's soldiers. However, I know the threat we face better than any other, and I alone have experience training soldiers. You will be split into groups of a hundred, and I shall assign an officer for each one. Your officer's orders are my orders, and disobeying them is disobeying me. Understood?"

Keith spent the remainder of the day organizing the army into groups, keeping similar pokemon together. He had Dalton fetch him paper to write officers' names and units down, noting the types of pokemon within each unit. He learned the names of pokemon species foreign to him, and he assessed their abilities, going so far as to fire bullets at a few sturdier pokemon.

Throughout the next month, Keith started each morning by hunting in the forests, acclimating himself to the weight of his armor. He spent the afternoons overseeing the drills and sorting out the supply wagons pouring into the city, and during the evenings, he spoke with each of his officers.

As his soldiers trained, the smiths within the city made rifles, cannons, powder, and thick shields for the army, sending wagons out east into Konago. Keith had a few battalions sent out ahead to secure their supply route.

Six weeks had passed before Keith was satisfied with the soldiers' training. Early one morning, the six psychics within the city worked together to create a new Gate, four times wider than the original, half a mile east of Konago. Despite this shortcut, it took the army an entire day to move the wagons and soldiers through, leaving just enough daylight to set up camp next to the Nexus. Keith's tent and bed were brought through, leaving him with a slim barrier to lessen the noise around him.

As he sat on the bed, massaging his temples, Verra walked into his tent. She sat down on the ground next to him and placed her hand on his knee.

"Having a rough time with the noise?"

"I had hoped I would get used to it now, but it still gives me headaches." Keith slid off his bed and sat down next to her.

"Isn't it weird that crowds bother you, but not gunshots?"

"I'm used to gunshots, that's all. Will you be there tomorrow?"

Verra looked at him and smiled. "I have to make sure you don't die on me."

Keith chuckled and answered, "Dying's for people who've given up on living."

"Is that something Nolan told you?"

"It is." Keith crawled over to his pack and took out his journal. "It's the first thing he ever taught me, the moment you give up living is the moment you stop living."

"What are we going to do? You know, after the war is over?"

Keith gave her a kiss on the cheek. "We'll work it out one day at a time."

"But what would everyone else think of us? This type of a relationship isn't normal."

A gust of wind blew the tent flap open. Keith stood up to close it and placed his pack on the corners. He took two pieces of jerky out of his pack and handed one to Verra.

"Nothing has been normal since the Day of Ruin, Verra. People adapted to a world of dragons and metal monsters, and they can adapt to this."

Verra stood up. "I – I just don't know how this will work. We can't even have any children! At least, I don't think we can."

"If it matters to you, I suppose we could give it a try."

Verra held a hand over her eyes and rubbed the back of her neck. "I need time to think this over."

Verra shoved his pack aside with her foot and left his tent. Keith lay on his bed, staring up at the tent's ceiling as the wind whistled past the tent flaps. After a moment, he got up and sought out Kendra. She had her own tent a hundred feet of his, made of leaves. He rustled the tent flap before entering.

"Kendra, do you have any idea where your aunt went?"

Kendra set down the book she was reading and looked up at him. "I was hoping you'd give up on that idea. Well, from what I know, my aunt helps people when it is convenient for her, and she's a powerful seer. If she has any interest in paying her debt, she'll be waiting in the spot of her choosing."

"Thank you." Keith walked towards the door, but the tent flaps were tightly shut.

"Do you know why my aunt was imprisoned? She helped anyone in need, but she bent them to her desires, creating a collection of devoted servants. When father confronted her about it, she tried turning him into another one of her slaves. Father resisted and used the energy he had stored away over the course of decades to defeat her. You can't trust her."

The tent flaps rustled and opened. Keith said goodbye and returned to his tent. He slid the robe off of his shoulders and placed it on the rack next to his bed.

"Consequences be damned," Keith said as he threw the covers over himself. "I promised I would make this work, and if that's what it takes, then so be it."


	11. Chapters 21-22

Chapter 21

As the sun rose, Keith had the army march east to the valley cliffs and had the cannons position at the cliff edges. Metal plates were planted into the ground on either side of each cannon, and the riflemen positioned themselves in tree branches.

Kendra stood next to him, holding his hand and feeding a psychic image of the landscape into his mind. Verra stood another ten feet away from him, holding a rifle and twitching at every noise from the treetops, and ten more soldiers formed a circle around him.

As Keith watched the landscape, he saw why the army had to cross through the valley. A river ran fast and deep past the cliff walls, and the only bridge across was built at the valley entrance. Wedged between two cliffs, the path leading away from the bridge had no trees or boulders to hide behind. Keith led the forces from the southern cliffs, and he had Kendra telepathically relay his orders to his officers.

"Are we ready?" Keith asked.

Kendra held up her amethyst amulet. "This should last a few days. Everyone is in position, and I checked the cliff faces for explosives."

A few hours after sunrise, the Empire's army appeared from in between the trees and crossed the river. Keith counted the soldiers crossing the bridge, and at the end of an hour, eight thousand soldiers and five-hundred cannons were deployed in the valley.

"Shall I give the order?" Kendra asked.

"Not yet. Wait for them to get in range of the cannons."

As the enemy army marched forward, Keith sensed something missing. He could hear their footsteps, the clanging of their armor, and the grinding of the cannons' wheels, but he couldn't hear them breathing.

"Have the troops hold fire, and teleport me in front of them. Those soldiers aren't real."

Kendra nodded, and Keith found himself in the valley after a flash of violet light. The soldiers at the vanguard stopped and pointed their rifles at him.

"I can tell this isn't real," Keith said.

A soldier in finery walked up to Keith and said, "My brother was right, but I had to test your senses myself. No wonder why Father wishes to meet you. I am Altader, first and most powerful child of our Father. Come with me now, and I shall grant your allies an additional month to prepare."

"The extra month wouldn't do us any good."

"Two months?"

Keith shook his head, and the soldiers before him vanished. Off in the distance, he could see a second army approaching. He teleported back to Kendra's side.

"Is that one real?" she asked.

Keith closed his eyes, and this time, he could hear the breathing of the army below him. "Yes. Order the soldiers to prepare for combat."

This army, though the same size as the illusion, needed twice the time to cross the bridge. Once across, they formed tightly packed ranks, with the cannons in the rear, and marched down the pass with their rifles aimed at the cliffs.

Keith waited for them to cross half the valley before giving the orders to fire. In the first barrage, half the cannons and the vanguard were smashed. The pokemon fired volley after volley of cannon fire into the forces below them, and while the Empire's soldiers stood firm amidst the exploding ground and the deaths of their comrades, the commanders in the rear ordered a retreat, and a few hundred soldiers sprinted across their fallen comrades for the safety across the river.

The valley was strewn with blood and gore, some of it reaching up the cliff faces. Keith could see a head perched in a tree halfway down the valley, staring down at the battlefield. The wind changed direction, blowing the scent of blood and smoke up the cliffs. Down the battle lines, he could hear his army retching from the smell.

"Is that it?" Kendra asked. "Did we win?"

"No. The Empire has many more soldiers than this. If they're not trying to defeat us, then they're after something else."

Verra walked up to him and gave him a quick hug. "Looks like we won! That wasn't so hard, now was it?"

Keith heard movement in the trees, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw a sniper rifle pointed at Verra's chest. He lunged just as the rifle fired, and he took a bullet in his right shoulder. As he fell, he heard the hunter flee east into the forest. Keith ran after him, and four of his guards followed.

Verra stood up and looked around. "Where did he go?"

"He went after the assassin," Kendra told her. Verra started into the woods, but she couldn't hear where Keith went and returned to Kendra.

"Find him!"

As Kendra closed her eyes, Keith reappeared from the forest and walked up to them, clutching at his shoulder. Blood dripped out the hole in his chainmail.

"Sorry Verra, he got away. I had the others go after him, but I came back in case the Empire decided to launch another attack."

Kendra placed her hands over his wounded shoulder, and the bleeding stopped. Keith moved his shoulder around and slid his fingers through the hole in the mail.

"Thanks, it's good as new."

When they turned to look at the bridge, they saw a large gray metal machine, with a cannon mounted on top of it, roll onto the bridge. It was followed by nineteen more like it, each taking turns crossing the bridge. Once across, the tanks regrouped into columns of two and slowly rumbled into the valley, and behind them, thousands of soldiers poured onto the bridge, forming ranks behind the advancing tanks. At the vanguard of those soldiers was a tall man dressed in golden armor, and he shouted orders to his advancing troops.

Keith rubbed at his temples and said, "I think we're going to need more cannons."

Nolan was waiting on a tree stump, cleaning his rifle. Keith stopped and pointed his rifle at him, but Nolan didn't move until his four guards joined him.

"You were right, Levin," Nolan said as he stood and faced Keith. "He followed me without a second thought."

The zoroark appeared out from behind a tree and shook his head. "Nolan, that was sloppy. You weren't supposed to hit him. Now we'll have to use the contingency plan."

"My apologies," Nolan said as he pointed his rifle at Levin's shoulder and pulled the trigger. As he pressed a hand over his shoulder, Levin transformed into Keith and ran off towards Kendra.

"Guards, stop him!" Keith's soldiers raised their rifles, and they were shot by soldiers hiding in the trees. They took turns dropping to the ground behind Keith.

"This is the end, Keith. Come with me, and your life will be spared. Try to run back, and those soldiers have orders to aim for your legs. Shout, and no one will hear you."

Keith glanced around him, slowly turning his head to look at the soldiers behind him. He knew he would never make it past them, but he saw a blind spot in their line of fire, a spot to his left between two trees where both Nolan and the soldiers couldn't hit him. He leapt in between the trees and heard a volley of bullets ricochet off the bark. Further to his left was a ravine, and he ducked into it as he ran farther east.

He zigzagged through the trees, listening for an opening in the pursuers' line, but he heard more and more soldiers join the chase, cutting off any hope for escape to the east. He tried veering to the south, but he heard a group of soldiers lying in ambush behind a boulder. To the north, even more soldiers waited, joining the chase after he passed.

As he ran, holding his bleeding shoulder, he realized that he was being boxed in, and that he would eventually reach the river. He made a few more attempts to slip to the south before he heard the sound of rushing water. He stopped at the riverbank and looked for a way across, but the river was wide, deep, and clear of obstacles across his line of sight.

He waited with his rifle drawn and his back to the river as Nolan and the soldiers encircled him. Some soldiers clambered up trees while the rest formed a circular firing line. Nolan stepped out from behind a tree.

"I told you it was over. Now drop your rifle and surrender."

Keith held his rifle in his right hand and stretched out his arm. As he loosened his grip on the rifle's shoulder strap, letting it slide through his fingers. Keith took a step back and fell into the river. He heard Nolan say "damn it!" before the current and his robes dragged him beneath the river. He dropped his rifle to squirm out of his robes and thrashed in the water. He hit a rock and pushed himself up, taking in a deep breath before his head returned underwater.

The river carried him for half an hour, battering him against the rocks hidden below the water's surface. He tried pushing himself towards the west shore, but the current kept dragging him away from the riverbanks.

As his arms trembled and his vision started to fade, he felt the current hasten, and he could hear the water ahead of him plummeting down a waterfall. He looked around and saw a branch sticking out in the river just ahead of him. He spun and grabbed it with both hands, but the current shoved him and dislodged his left hand. The branch leaned from his weight, and he felt his feet dangling from the waterfall. Gripping his shoulder with his left hand, he heaved with his injured arm, pulling himself closer to shore. He felt the bullet in his shoulder grate against bone and heard his shoulder crack, and as his right hand went numb, he lunged and grabbed the branch with his left hand. He inched his way up the branch, grabbing it with his hand and his teeth, and half an hour later he heaved himself onto the riverbank.

When he stood up, he saw that Nolan and six soldiers were waiting for him. They all pointed rifles at him. Keith backed up to the edge of the cliff, right above a small pool of water.

"I didn't think you'd make it," Nolan said. "Then again, I also didn't think you'd jump in the river. You remember that day, don't you? The day I saved your life."

Keith drew his pistol from his undershirt and slowly raised it. Once the barrel pointed at Nolan's feet, one of the soldiers shot him in the gut, making him drop his weapon.

"Hold your fire!" Nolan shouted. "The Emperor wants Keith alive!"

"He was going to kill you," the soldier replied, "and he's dead anyways. He's lost too much blood."

Keith sank to his knees and reached for his fallen pistol. He grabbed it and rose to his feet, but another soldier shot him, this time in his left thigh. Keith felt to his left knee, and a fourth soldier shot the pistol out of his left hand, taking half of his hand with it.

Nolan walked forward, picked up the pistol, and pointed it at Keith's head. "I'm afraid even they can't help you now. I'll make sure it's over quickly."

Keith grabbed Nolan's leg and threw his weight over the edge of the cliff. Nolan panicked and fired the pistol, shooting Keith through the center of his neck. His grip slackened, and he fell down the cliff into the pond.

Nolan leaned over the cliff's edge and watched Keith's lifeless body sink into the depths. Then he said "goodbye," and left to give his report to the zoroark.

Chapter 22

Keith opened his eyes and saw the water's surface above him. He felt calm and serene watching sunlight flicker off the waves of the pond. His lungs called out for oxygen, and Keith opened his mouth to take in a breath. Water filled his mouth, and in a panic, he kicked towards the surface and gasped in a breath of air.

He swam for the shore, and as his arms shoved aside the water in front of him, he saw that they were covered in blue fur. Once he was ashore, he tried to pull the fur off and noticed that his hands had changed. Now he had three thick fingers, and white cones stuck out of the backs of his hands. He flicked his finger on one of them, and it rang with a metallic chime.

He looked over his body. The fur on his chest was white, and another conical protrusion stuck out from his chest. His feet also had three toes and his legs were covered in black fur. He reached up and touched his face. His nose stuck out like a muzzle, with his mouth underneath it, and when he reached for his ears, he felt four long, squishy lumps jutting out from the sides of his head. His hands climbed up to the top of his head, and he felt two long ears sticking upward.

He looked into the pool, and through the choppy waves, he could make out his pale green eyes and a white fur ring around his right eye. A horizontal black stripe wound around his eyes like a mask, and a second stripe went up between his ears.

With his new hands, he probed the areas he was shot, parting the fur and peering at the pale skin underneath. No scars remained. He moved his right shoulder around, checking for the bullet lodged in the bone. It was gone.

Everything around him seemed ablaze with blue light. He closed his eyes, yet he could still see everything around him in a blue glow, even objects out of his line of sight. He strained his new senses, and he found that he could see everything within a mile around him.

He heard a thrashing sound from farther down the shore, and he walked over to it. In the shallows, a squishy pink blob thrashed around. Keith picked it up and placed it onto the ground. The blob wriggled around and turned over, revealing two beady eyes and a lumpy mouth.

"Couldn't you put me on anything other than my face?" it asked. The blob held up its shapeless hands and grimaced at them. "Ugh, I sure hope you're happy. Granted, it's a little better than being a puddle, but I still won't be able to get around."

"You're Lorende?" Keith asked.

"Ah, you've met my brother. How is he, by the way?"

Keith squeezed the water from his fur. "He's blind and crippled."

"Ah, he burnt himself patching up that arm of yours, didn't he? His healing was always sloppy. As for mine, you won't find a single flaw with it. It's my best work!"

Keith looked over his new body once more. "Well, I'm alive, I don't have any extra holes in me, and to cap it off, I'm a pokemon. I think I like it. I just wish it wasn't so bright."

"Bright? Oh, about that, I didn't exactly have complete control over the healing process. Well, I should say I didn't have any control at all. All of that," Lorende said, waving her flabby arms at Keith, "came from your subconscious. And let me tell you, you have one messed-up subconscious. You also have some latent talent or whatever. Good luck sorting that out."

"So I am a psychic?"

"Not psychic. Your power comes from around you, not within you. Aside from that, I don't know anything about it. And don't you have something to get back to?"

Keith felt around his back for his rifle, and Lorende pointed towards the other side of the pond. "It washed up a few minutes before you did."

Keith walked towards where she pointed and found his rifle. The lenses in the scope were smashed, and he cast aside the dented metal tube with disgust. He inspected the rest of his rifle, and although every crack and crevice was soaked, it was undamaged by its trip down-river.

He looked up the cliff-side, hunting for a quicker way back to the battlefield. As he looked, he saw a blue ghost of himself leap to the top of the cliff. By its own volition, his legs crouched, and he leapt up to the top of the cliff. He reached up with his right hand, grabbed the cliff's edge, and vaulted higher in the air, doing a flip before landing feet-first.

"Show off!" Lorende shouted up the cliff.

Perched in a nearby tree, a large white bird glided over to Keith's shoulder and opened its oversized beak, revealing a pile of berries inside. Keith took a handful and placed them in his mouth.

"Thanks," Keith mumbled as he chewed. "Take care, old friend."

The former raticate flew down the cliff and flew back up a moment later, carrying Lorende in its beak. Keith watched them fly for a few seconds before veering off to the battle. He allowed his body to move by itself, vaulting through trees and leaping from rocks with superhuman speed. Within a minute, he could see the battlefield, glowing at the edge of his vision like a metropolis. His gaze shifted to Kendra, and he saw the shadow standing next to her. He raised his rifle to fire and panicked when his finger wouldn't fit through the trigger. He panicked, trying to squeeze his finger through, and then he saw himself using his new powers. He closed his eyes and felt the energy of the land rush through him.

Levin hid his smile as the tanks fired a barrage at the cliff-sides. Though he ordered the cannons to concentrate their fire on each tank, they only stopped four at the cost of half their cannons. He thought about having the gunmen fire on the tanks as well, but instead, he had them fire on the infantry.

 _Brother,_ Altader's voice said in his head, _I know you're supposed to play Keith's role, but I think you're doing too good a job. Father doesn't want the humans annihilated._

 _Sorry brother,_ Levin thought back. _But I haven't had this much fun before! I'm sure Father won't mind a few thousand dead humans._

Levin cut off the telepathic communication and looked out over the battlefield. His brother led the infantry charge, warding off bullets with armor reinforced by his own barriers.

"Shouldn't those soldiers be back already?" Verra asked. "Maybe we should send out some more to bring them back."

 _Damn it,_ Levin thought, _now I'll have to spoil my fun._ "Right. You three, search the forest and bring them back."

Once those soldiers were gone, Levin drew his knife and inched closer to Kendra. As he held his arm back, he heard a gunshot in the distance, then another, and six seconds later, as he turned towards the source of the sound, a bullet smashed through his barriers and split his skull open.

Verra stared in shock at Levin's headless corpse, and then cries of panic made her look out at the battlefield. The Empire's commander had fallen, revealing himself to be another zoroark.

More gunshots rang out from the east, and balls of blue light rose from that direction. Each one slammed into a tank, crunching their turrets into metallic craters. The infantry panicked and rushed across the bridge, dropping their weapons and shoving each other into the river.

Kendra sent the order to withdraw, and the remaining pokemon on the cliffs ran from the carnage below them. One of the soldiers she sent out ran out from between the trees and walked up to her.

"Lady Kendra, the four soldiers that accompanied Keith were ambushed. We haven't found Keith's body yet, but we found a blood trail, and the other two followed it."

"Cut off one of your feathers, Kastan."

"Yes, my Lady." He took out his belt knife and slashed one of the red feathers on his arm, holding it up to her. "I'm not one of those things."

"Alright." Kendra closed her eyes and reached out with her power, hoping to track Keith's body, but all she found were his robes, left at the bottom of the river, and the broken scope at the bottom of the waterfall. "We'll have to call off the search. We need to leave before whatever happened to them happens to us."

Verra walked forward and grabbed Kendra's arm. "I'm not leaving until we find him."

"He's dead, Verra."

"Shut up! You can't know that! He could be hiding out there, or he could've fired those shots!"

"I already searched for his body. It's gone. There's nothing left but his robes and part of his rifle."

"Where?"

"In the river east of here." Verra ran off, and Kendra tried to call after her, but a spasm of pain between her temples forced her to the ground.

"Just like before," she gasped. She pointed towards the forest and said, "You have to, have to─"

A soldier, pale-skinned and covered in blood, crawled out of the wreckage of a tank, shoving aside the dented hatch. He heaved himself out of the cockpit, dragging his mangled leg behind him. A shard of bone stuck on the rim of the hatch, and when he tried to yank it free, his leg tore off at the kneecap. He stared numbly at the stump before crawling off the tank.

He crawled through pools of blood and mounds of bodies, scavenging the ruins for survivors. The only responses to his hoarse pleas for help were blank-eyed stares from the heads of his comrades.

He crawled towards the front lines, hoping to find the commander. He found the commander's armor, but inside was a pokemon with black hair, coughing as it held its hand over the hole in its chest.

"Heal, damn it," he heard it whisper, "Why won't you heal?"

In the grip of another soldier, he saw a rifle, immaculately clean amidst the gore around it. He grabbed the rifle and crawled over to his false commander.

"What the hell did you do with General Surge?"

Altader glared at him and kept mumbling to itself. The soldier raised the rifle and pointed it at the zoroark.

"Go to hell." The soldier pulled the trigger, and Altader shuddered once more before falling still.

The soldier looked around him, at the crumpled tanks and piles of mangled bodies, and then he looked back at his own stump. He could tell the bleeding had stopped only because he was nearly out of blood. He checked the rifle's ammo and found one bullet left.

"Fuck it. We lost, and now, the human race is finished." He opened his mouth, held the muzzle against his tonsils, and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened.

"Jammed," he said, checking the inside of the rifle. "Fuck me."

He tossed the rifle aside and looked up at the sky, watching the sun pass over his head as he waited to die.


	12. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Keith's first thought was for Verra, but he felt Nolan's presence north of him, in a tree overlooking Kendra's location. By the time Keith sprinted over to the tree, Nolan was already standing on the ground, leaning against the tree and cleaning the inside of his rifle's barrel.

"Only you could've pulled off a shot from a mile away," he said. "Nice body, by the way. It suits you well. I've been wondering if I should do the same. Ah well, it's too late now."

Nolan tossed him his leather pack. Keith looked inside and saw a glass flask with a swirling dark liquid inside.

"I owe you a body. Drink that, and you'll become one of them."

"Why are you giving me this?"

"That was the last debt I owed anyone. Now I'm ready to die." He took Keith's pistol from his pocket and pointed it at his temple. He strained to pull the trigger, but it wouldn't fire.

"I got it," Keith said, raising his own rifle. "Goodbye." He shot Nolan between his eyes, and the hunter toppled to the ground.

He closed his eyes and felt Verra running towards him. He turned towards her, but a sinister presence in the corner of his mind made him freeze. Dark, nebulous orbs floated in front of him and converge, creating a shifting mass. The darkness solidified and transformed into a zoroark. Yellow eyes with slitted pupils stared coldly at him.

"At last, we meet, Keith, the great serpent amongst men," he rumbled. "I am known as Father, but in truth, I have no name. You may call me Ath."

"What are you?"

"I'm just like you. We were both born into this world with a gift. I've been hoping to meet you ever since I witnessed your power in Palsitore." He raised his hand over the ground, and black strands floated down from his fingertips. A gray crystalline chair rose from the soil, and Ath sat down on it.

"I want nothing more than what's best for my family. It's why I've tried subverting the humans and destroying the psychics elsewhere. I thought about destroying you as well, but I think we have a lot in common. We're both willing to make sacrifices for those we care about. So, I'll give you the same offer I made Nolan. Drink, and be a part of my family."

Keith opened the pack and held up the flask. "What would you give me in return?"

"Anything. I'll spare the humans and pokemon, usher in a new age of peace between them, and if you so desire, I'll permit Verra into my family as well, and you two can be together. Is that enough to satisfy you, or is there anything else I could offer?"

Keith returned the flask to the pack. "There are many things Verra has forgiven me for, but this wouldn't be one of them."

Ath's chair sank back into the ground as he stood up. "I see. Forgive me, Keith, but I cannot allow you to threaten my family."

A bolt of black energy lashed out from Ath's hands, and Keith threw up his own arms to block it. A blue barrier deflected the bolt, and black sparks leapt up around him. The trees that were hit rotted at their wounds, filling the air with the scent of decay and worms.

Keith raised his rifle, but Ath's second attack knocked it from his hands. Keith countered with a ball of blue aura from his hands, cracking Ath's shield and making him stumble back.

They exchanged blows, dodging, smashing cracks into their shields, and shaking the forest with explosions of light and darkness. One of Keith's spheres of aura broke Ath's shield, knocking him into a rotting tree. He pulled himself from the muck, emitting a pulse of darkness to clean his fur. He raised his hand, and at his signal, his children emerged from the tree branches. Each one flung a dark tether at Keith, and two wrapped around each of his hands and pulled him up.

Keith kicked out towards the trees, sending a blast of energy from each foot. The blast freed him from his tethers, but more reached out for him. He attacked each zoroark that bound him, but there were too many for him to counter, and his limbs were trapped. Keith fired one last sphere from his mouth before two more tendrils coiled around his muzzle, keeping his mouth clamped shut.

"You are quite strong, Keith," Ath said as a ball of darkness grew in his hands. He took a few steps back from Keith and held the growing sphere out in front of him. "You would have made a fine son."

He spun the orb into a conical spear and threw it towards Keith's chest, but Verra dashed out of the forest, throwing herself in front of the projectile. Her body crumbled into black powder and fell to the ground, but in her chest was a glowing white stone that hung in the air.

Keith struggled and tried to shout, but the tendrils held him firmly in place. He reached for the stone with his power, and when he felt his mind touch it, his body burned with the power inside the stone. He was bathed in a light blue glow, and he felt his body transform. More spikes grew from his hands, feet, and shoulders, and the power blazoned a red glow on his hands, feet, and the tips of the gelatinous lobes on his head.

His hands and feet crackled with energy, snapping the tendrils that bound him. From each hand, he flung a bolt of blue light, smiting one zoroark in the chest and blasting the leg off another. He whirled, spraying an icy blue whip from his fingertips and slicing off three heads. A zoroark leapt at him from behind, and he crushed its skull beneath his fingers, smiling as bits of bone and brains oozed between his fingers. Two more came at his flanks. He crushed the ribcage of one and snapped the neck of the other.

"To me!" Ath shouted. "We shall defeat him as a family!"

The zoroark sprinted towards their father, ducking under Keith's barrage of sapphire bullets. Two were torn to shreds, and a third lost their arm. Once they were together, they held each other's hands, with Ath in the middle of the group. A dark power was passed from hand to hand until it reached Ath, and Ath used their collective power to create a thick black barrier.

Keith threw bursts of energy from his hands, and the barrier changed shape, allowing the energy to slide up and over it. Keith leapt up and threw more energy blasts, and the barrier morphed into a wedge, guiding the energy to the sides.

Keith dashed forward, coated his hands in aura, and punched the barrier. The barrier cracked under the first blow, but it bulged inward under the second, absorbing the force of the punch and flinging it back into Keith's arm and dislocating his shoulder. Keith popped the shoulder back into its joint, held his palms together, and spun a blade of aura between his hands. The blade sliced through the barrier, and Keith swung the blade around to create a hole. A piece of the barrier fell out, and before it could reform, Keith flung the blade through the opening, slicing open the zoroark behind it.

The barrier flickered as the zoroark slipped out of the grasp of her siblings, and the ones next to her hastily joined hands, restoring the barrier.

"Keith!" Ath shouted. "I surrender, please, just spare my children! We'll do whatever you want, just don't kill any more of them! I'll even die, if that's what it will take to make peace between us."

His children protested and volunteered their own lives, but Keith cut them off by punching their barrier, raising a plume of blue and black sparks.

"You will all die for what you've done."

"Please, I'm the one that killed Verra, just have your revenge on me and leave my children alone!"

"You took what was most precious from me. I will do the same to you, one child at a time, and then I'll kill you."

Keith stepped back and raised his hands into the air, channeling the energy from miles away into his body. His fur stood on end and glowed with sapphire incandescence, casting a light that blocked out the sun. Then he reached forward, pouring energy into the barrier, and he forced his hands apart, wrenching the barrier into two pieces. The force of the barrier's collapse knocked back the other zoroark. Ath stood alone, holding his hand over a wound in his left side.

Keith charged an aura blast, but Ath responded by dipping his right hand in his wound, drawing out a glob of black blood. He drew a circle in the air with his blood, then etched a flowing symbol inside it. The blood burned and blackened into an abyss, from which a torrent of dark energy poured out at Keith. He threw his hands up, redirecting his charged aura into a shield around him. His shield fizzled and cracked, but it held up to the assault. However, Ath charged forward, holding a black dagger in his right hand. The dagger smashed through Keith's barrier, and Ath plunged it into Keith's stomach.

Keith staggered back, clutching at the dagger's handle as smoke rose from the dagger wound. He wrenched it out, threw it aside, and retaliated with the last of his charged strength, striking Ath with a burst of aura. Ath was flung back twenty feet, with his left arm, the edge of his chest, and half his face burned down to bone. Four of his children ran to his side and carried him away, another helped the zoroark missing a leg hobble off, and the other six formed a ring around him.

"You will pay for what you've done to Father," the one in front of him said, holding a ball of black energy in its hand.

"Not until you pay first." Keith reached for his rifle, and it flew to his hands. He fired off a shot, but the bullet shattered against the zoroark's shield. He fired two more, and the third grazed the zoroark's head.

The six zoroark attacked together, hurling spikes of energy at Keith. He dodged four of them, blocked the fifth with his right hand, and took the sixth in his right leg. He sank to his right knee, holding his hand over the smoking wound above his kneecap. The zoroark walked closer to him and held hands, forming a complete ring around him. Keith tried rolling out, but a dark barrier kept him inside the circle.

The zoroark chanted, and the air inside the ring filled with violet and black flames. Keith formed a barrier around himself, but he could feel the flames burn through the shield. His fur crackled as it burned, and the air around him was cloying with the stench of his own burning flesh.

He felt the power bleeding out of the body as the white stone reformed itself in the air in front of him and crumbled in the flames. The red color faded from his hands and feet, and the extra spikes turned to ash in the fire.

Keith reached out for more power when he found an enormous reservoir to the west. His mind linked with it, and power surged into the ground beneath his feet. He felt himself pulled out of the inferno, through the ground towards the reservoir.

Once the zoroark stopped chanting, the flames died down, and all that remained of Keith's presence were white crystals coating a circle in the ground where Keith stood.

When Keith opened his eyes, he was lying on a grassy patch of dirt. He saw a cavern ceiling high above his head, coated in crystals. He smelled moisture in the air, and the earth around him pulsed with the energy hidden beneath its surface. Crystals grew out of the soil around him, entombing his body in a crystalline block.

"The heartbeat of the world," Keith whispered, closing his eyes as the crystals grew over his face. "If only you could hear it."

To be continued in Part Two of the Sinex Conquest Saga, _Through the Aura_


End file.
